


Darkest Dreams, Brightest Hopes

by Corpasite



Series: Chains of Hope [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23124754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corpasite/pseuds/Corpasite
Summary: The world is broken, dark dreams guiding them all on a path to a fight that might not be winnable.  But for each dark dream, each nightmare, there is a bright hope, a guiding light.  To save the very organization they founded, and the world, Claire and the others must challenge the very world they've created.
Relationships: Chris Redfield/Jill Valentine, Leon S. Kennedy/Claire Redfield
Series: Chains of Hope [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634557
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	1. Burning Nightmares

**_A/N: I present to you, the sequel to The Recurring Nightmare of Hope. Enjoy!_ **

_Cranston Reed, Director of the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, your attendance has been requested at the Oval Office by the President of the United States, Adam Benford._

Cranston slowly marches through the carpeted halls of the White House, the paper invitation gripped tight in his right hand. It arrived immediately after Rico Pike handed in his transfer request from the field to a desk job. Something about this doesn’t sit right with him, but answers will be gained soon as he approaches the door to the Oval Office. Rosa’s ascension to the Prime Ministry went off without a hitch, as did her speech on the complete eradication of the bioweapons on the black market. What surprised him the most though about all of these events was her immediate call for the disbandment of the B.S.A.A. and its reformation under the direct control and budget of the United Nations. President Benford must have gotten through to her for this to happen.

The plans set in motion after the tragedy at the hospital so long ago are finally coming to fruition, “Reed? Come on in and take a seat…”

“Thank you, Mister President,” he doesn’t notice the faces in the room until he sits down on the couch on the right side of the room.

There are four faces he recognizes: one is Vice President Jonathon Mackenzie, there is the Chief of Staff, the Attorney General, accompanied by the Secretary of Defense, “Ladies and Gentlemen, a pleasure to see you all as always…”

“Wish we could say the same about you, Cranston,” the dark voice of the Secretary of Defense, Julian Lagrange, cuts deep, as the two of them have a history longer than the North Lawn.

“Enough of this, Cranston, I have a request to make of you and the B.S.A.A. concerning a political prisoner housed at the United Nations,” this is news to Cranston, usually any prisoners at the UN are brought before a global tribunal within days of capture.

Cranston crosses his left leg over the right one and leans back into the couch, “Who is the prisoner and how can the B.S.A.A. be of service?”

“Your group can be of service by escorting the prisoner to his permanent cell at Leviathan Station,” the name of the prison he will be traveling to sends a chill down his spine.

The Leviathan Station is an underwater prison built on the bottom of Crater Lake in Oregon used as a waystation for terrorist prisoners following the events of September 11th. From there, prisoners are sent either to execution or traded to other countries for prisoners of great interest to the United States. For a prisoner to be taken from the UN to Leviathan, they must have done something incredibly nasty.

This is a great honor and will allow the B.S.A.A. to expand into armed escort as part of their profile, “And who is the prisoner?”

“This name does not leave this room, understand?” President Benford slides a tablet toward Reed, his face dark and unreadable.

Slim fingers slowly open the tablet, green eyes reading the name before Reed feels his blood begin to boil, “He’s still alive!?”

“Apparently all of them are, but he’s not giving up their hideouts,” Chief of Staff Alice Kinkaid tosses another folder at him before resuming her leisurely posture on the couch.

Adam Benford sure has a more relaxed regime than he remembers, “All of them are alive? I got confirmed kills from Pike that night… Also, I’ve been monitoring any connections they had, closing all of their accounts, and adding their assets to the organization.”

“Are you sure you have a firm grip on your organization, Reed?” Adam’s voice is defiant and strong, showing that he is no longer the little puppet he started this crusade with.

“I’ll escort the prisoner to Leviathan Station immediately, sir. The B.S.A.A.’s best will be on the squad.”

There is a small silence before the Attorney General speaks up, “I thought your best betrayed us and went to Spain?”

11 **Two Days Later** 11

Claire sits in the lone chair in safe house number five as her brother storms around, still pissed off at the B.S.A.A., “I can’t believe these assholes! They seized EVERYTHING!”

“I guess we are lucky you guys didn’t surrender the old S.T.A.R.S. safe houses to them when you joined,” Claire responds wistfully.

Cranston seized all their assets, closed all their bank accounts, and is even monitoring all their friends and family. They aren’t sure how Cranston learned they were still alive, but that no longer matters to everyone but Chris as Jill is busy trying to obtain whatever gear she can for them. Sherry is out doing her best to obtain some cash, Claire deciding it be best not to ask how she is getting this money.

“We are going to need to take down the B.S.A.A. if we are to ever be free again,” this statement catches his sister completely off-guard.

“What the hell are you talking about, Chris? Those people used to be our friends… We can’t just turn our backs on them this quick…” Claire has a point that Chris can’t ignore, but he will try anyway, being the stubborn Redfield he is.

The older Redfield grits his teeth and turns to Jill, “How is that list of possible sympathy fighters coming along?”

“Not good, Chris,” Jill adjusts the ball-cap on her head and types away some more on the laptop she lifted from a busy business man outside the coffee shop down the street, “the list shrinks by the minute as Cranston continues to spin us as traitors… He’s taken what good remained in our names, Chris…”

“And you say we can’t just go into the B.S.A.A. that WE built and demand Cranston turn himself in!? I NEED to see this man bleed, Claire…”

Claire places a hand on his shoulder and sighs heavily, “I know how you feel, Chris… His back-room dealings and quest to bring the bioweapons back into the light of day cost me one of the people I hold closest to me. No one really wants to see him pay more than I do,” she smacks him to stop his retort, “no one, Chris…”

_How did things go so wrong while we thought things were going right for the first time in a long time?_

11

Silence, darkness, and deafness, all these do are feed into the feeling of powerlessness, loneliness, and hopelessness. These feelings are all that plague the person inside the dark room, nothing to be done to combat these emotions. Doesn’t matter though, the person trapped all alone has fought off these feelings before, on more than one occasion. This time might be different though, there is a single name putting a hole in their heart as how they were separated was terrible. The explosion, the flames, the screams leaving his own lips, the nightmare over how he and Claire were separated haunts Leon relentlessly as he remains tied up inside this locked room somewhere.

“There are three of you outside the door, one has the faint smell of freshly-fired gunpowder… Possible military base with a gun-range, unless I am trapped in an active battleground?” no answer, never an answer, and Leon accepts that.

He has flashes of events before he woke up inside this room, faces he doesn’t recognize, pain he can’t place, flashes of light, and voices that mean nothing to him, “How about a sandwich? Two pieces of bread with a splat of butter? Anything? I’ll even take a bottle of warm water…”

A window is slid open on the door and a small canteen is tossed in, landing at his feet, which are bound to the chair just like his hands, “You guys are funny. We should get a beer sometime when this is over…”

Even more silence in return, just like every moment he has been awake inside this room, “Claire…”

11

The limo ride back to the B.S.A.A. Headquarters at the outskirts of Washington D.C. has been relatively quiet, Cranston staring intently at the tablet face-down in the seat next to him. Adam called it a ‘gift’, but Cranston knows it is a reminder of his failure. He can’t believe that Leon Kennedy is alive, but his blood boils knowing that Chris and the others are alive as well, WITH the blonde petri-dish. They will unravel all the hard work he put in the past few years to gain a strong standing in the political world. The B.S.A.A. is where he needs it to be, a strong force that can quickly react to threats abroad, to prevent the events at the hospital with Ashley Graham from happening again.

_Why can’t they see what I did was for the betterment of the world!?_ Cranston punches the back of the tablet, which causes him to turn it over and watch the feed on the screen.

Leon is bound to a chair, the night-vision feed showing that his bandages are in severe need of redressing. They haven’t been feeding him, or keeping him hydrated, hoping to break him down further and hopefully get more information out of him regarding his teammates. Cranston knows better than those bureaucrats that the Umbrella Survivors are going to stick together and that Leon would sooner die than turn on the people he considers family.

_Pike…_ but will Rico stand as firm?

His phone is pressed to his ear as he smirks, “Agent Stone, glad to see you made it to the States safely… I need you to have Rico Pike in my office when I arrive, thank you.”

11

Rico slowly scans his transcription of the verbal report from the SOU out in Eastern China, “They really didn’t give me much to go with…”

“Rico Pike?” the accent is heavy, possibly West African?

That means it could really only be one person, “Josh Stone,” Rico spins around in his chair to smile at possibly the only person who could outshoot Chris Redfield, “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Director Reed is on his way back and would like you to be waiting for him in his office,” this can’t be good, not in the least…

“What does he want from me? I’m almost ready with the China Report, but I could use a little longer to gather a report from the Sweeper Team we sent in afterwards…”

A shake of his head doesn’t put Rico in any calm frame of mind, “I am not sure what he wants, I was told to deliver a message and I did that.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll head to his office now, Josh…” Rico steps up from the desk and pats Josh on the back, “How is Kijuju this time of year? Or do you not visit the hometown much anymore?”

There is a long silence as they walk together toward the office that might be where he dies before Josh says bluntly, “The African Government torched it after a new bioweapon appeared amongst the populace.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry man…”

“Yeah,” Josh slams the door behind Rico, who silently takes a seat in the plastic chair Cranston keeps out there as his sign of ‘hospitality’.

11

Sherry drops down into the lower alley behind a bistro, the front pocket of her hoodie almost bursting at the seams with cash and coin, _At least they taught me one useful skill on that freighter…_

While waiting for the ‘trade’ to go down, Sherry found herself passing the time by practicing pick-pocketing. One of the few things they gave her in her room aboard the freighter was a deck of cards, where she perfected her sleight of hand. These two skills are now allowing her to accrue enough money to get something off the ground for Chris and the others, though what that is remains lost to her. The last guy at the three-card monte table wasn’t too happy that he lost, again, but Sherry was able to lose him in the busy lunch-rush crowd. Now the scrappy blonde woman slowly strolls down the darker alley, hands smashed into the hoodie pocket to keep the money hidden from any would-be muggers.

Life doesn’t disappoint as she finds herself staring at a knife, “Give me whatever you got, girly…”

“Of all days, you choose today to rob me?” the mugger is taken back by her frankness, but Sherry isn’t in the mood for this today.

Her mind flashes back to a memory she has of her time with Leon, and one of the defensive moves he taught her, _If your arms aren’t readily available, knee into the chest, then forehead into the nose._

The man lunges at her, Sherry ducking to the left, brings her right knee up hard into his stomach, and then quickly raises her head as he lowers his in pain. There is a loud crack as she breaks his nose, the man crumbling in a heap as she steps over him. Hopefully he learns a lesson from this, but deep down she knows he won’t learn a damn thing. Another lesson from her time as a prisoner: people who do wrong, will continue to do wrong. It’s a little blacker than what she used to think about the world, but a dark world requires a dark outlook.

“Sherry? Everything okay down here?” it’s Claire, her worried face making the younger woman smile.

“Yeah, everything is fine. Do we need to go grocery-shopping?” Sherry reveals the treasure hidden within her hoodie to her friend, “I had a good day.”

She watches Claire’s eyes focus on the man crying in pain, “Sure seems like it, kiddo…”

11

Chris sighs as he attempts to load ANYTHING on this crappy laptop Jill swiped, “Why is nothing working on this thing!?”

“We’re using stolen internet from the café I stole that laptop from… Patience, Chris,” Jill stops to reconsider what she just said, “If you don’t like it, then steal something better!”

He huffs and returns to the monitor, growling as his search comes up empty, “I can’t find anything connecting Reed to President Benford…”

“Did you expect it to be so easy? They’ve been planning this for the longest time, of course they will cover their tracks. What do we know about the two of them separately?” her question strikes something inside Chris, bringing back a talk he had with Reed a while back.

“You know, he once talked about the only thing he has in common with the President. Both of them went to Ivy University, with Adam Benford putting in a good word with the Dean to get Cranston admitted,” Chris turns and pulls up whatever information he can about the town of Tall Oaks.

Jill slides behind her attachment, resting her chin on his broad left shoulder as her arms snake around his chest, “Population of about seventy thousand people, seems that his election and subsequent rally against bioterror has done a lot for the city as the last few years has seen the city expand its subway system and perform several serious infrastructure upgrades. Seems he’s scheduled to speak about bioterror before giving a Commencement speech at the University in the next couple days. Hold on, what’s this?”

He follows her finger to an article hidden at the bottom of the Welcome to Tall Oaks website, “It seems that President Benford funded a land purchase just a mile outside the city… It covers not only the land, but anything two-hundred feet down as well.”

There is a bit of silence before both of them reply, “Lab…”

**END**


	2. Optimal Dreams

Chapter Two: Optimal Dreams

Claire stares at the information Chris is laying out for her, doing his best to convince her that Tall Oaks is where they need to go. His fight has lasted about an hour, but she’s finally ready to put this to bed, just so SHE can go to bed.

“What are the chances Leon is there?” she watches as Chris almost punches the nearest object before he sighs heavily.

He shakes his head, “Look, Claire, I want him to be alive as much as you do, but he’s gone… We can get revenge by taking down the people responsible!”

“Fine,” she stands up from the couch and walks toward her room, “I’m going to bed.”

The redheaded member of the Redfield clan drops face-first into the bed she’s been ‘sleeping’ on and then turns to stare out the only window in her room. The city life outside keeps going as she continues to feel her own stop more and more the longer she holds on to the thought that Leon is still alive. He went around the world to find her once she was kidnapped, why shouldn’t she exhaust every option to find him if he is still alive? He could even be in the same predicament she was in, locked away in a room with no chance of escape.

_No, Leon is more resourceful than that,_ she shakes her head violently to eject the thought.

Leon can’t be dead, her heart claims that he can’t be, and that is what she is going to hold on to for all it is worth. Claire sits up in the meager bed she has been assigned and sighs heavily, her mind questioning what Leon would do in this situation.

“You’d probably be in the middle of the B.S.A.A. compound in D.C. shooting everything up…” a small chuckle leaves her lips, a brief respite from the grief.

Blue eyes flash as she punches her pillow, “I need to do something…”

11

Sherry drops into the beaten recliner and looks all over the living room before opening the orange package resting on her thighs, “Hehehe delicious…”

She pulls out the peanut butter and chocolate cup hidden within and smells it lovingly before biting into it, “Oh, is that a Reese’s?”

“NO!” she cowers into the chair as Chris walks into the room, her eyes glaring at him as he continues to walk past, “It’s mine!”

“I know kid, I know,” he continues across the room and enters the kitchen, “you deserve whatever happiness you can get out of life right now…”

Sherry smiles wide and devours the rest of the package with a haste she usually puts toward acquiring money for them to eat and live off of, “Thanks, Chris!”

A deep laugh echoes from the kitchen as the small blonde woman bounces in the chair, humming a song to herself, “I’m glad that someone is happy these days, the house needs it.”

Blue eyes angle up to watch Jill walk around the chair and drop onto the leaning love seat and turn on the TV, “It’s going to be better once we get Leon back…”

A long silence falls over the house as Sherry realizes what she just said, but she steels her nerves and says, “We are going to get him back. He’s not dead… We are going to rescue Leon and take down the people responsible for these nightmares recently, right?”

Chris walks back into the living room and spins the top off his beer, “Yeah, kid… We’ll make them pay and rescue Leon if they have him…”

“Where do we start?” Claire walks in at this point, already dressed and kitted up, “Someone needs to pay for this…”

Jill’s eyes turn to Chris, who takes a deep breath before replying, “I’ll make a few calls… This is going to take some serious firepower if we are to take down the B.S.A.A. and the President of the United States…”

11

Leon is awoken by a punch to the face by one of the guards stationed outside his cell, “Wakey wakey…”

“Yeah…” he spits the blood to the floor, making sure to get some of it on the goon’s boots, “where are the eggs and bakey?”

“Transfer time, inmate… You’re being moved to Leviathan Station today and some of the best in the world are going to make sure you don’t get away…” Green eyes slowly rise up to meet his new escorts.

Cranston Reed sneers down at him as an unknown B.S.A.A. agent steps up next to him, “I heard you died in Spain…”

“I heard you killed Adam Benford’s daughter and pinned it on Chris Redfield,” Leon laughs as Reed kicks him in the chest, sending the younger man flying back.

His former boss stomps up to him and pulls the blonde man up by his hair, “I cannot wait to drop you into that pit at the bottom of Crater Lake and seal the fucking door….”

Leon wants to retort, but he is rendered unconscious by a blow to the base of the skull. Blackness gives way to a startlingly bright light as he comes to in a prisoner transport van, the vehicle swaying back and forth on the road, or is it a road? He looks around, there are no guards, he listens intently, there are no voices, Leon takes a deep sniff of the air, notices nothing other than diesel. His hands are no longer tied, as well as his feet, so he stands up and opens the sliding door on the side of the van, the sight before him like nothing he has ever seen before.

Reed really is taking him to Leviathan Station at the bottom of Crater Lake, “Wizard Island… What portal awaits me down there…”

“Leon Kennedy…” the voice is thick with an accent, West African?

B.S.A.A. guard, African descent, that means he is from the African Branch, which means, “Josh Stone…”

“I’m surprised you know who I am, Leon,” the two shake hands before Leon steps up next to Josh.

He chuckles before replying, “Someone that can tie one of Chris’s records is hard to ignore… Reed roped you in to this little endeavor?”

“He likes to think he did… I volunteered for this escort job…” something cryptic in the words, something hidden but calling out to him.

Green eyes scan the level water as they move closer and closer to the only island in the lake, “It’s not really fair, this world… You go through hell, try your damnedest to put the pieces back together, but you find yourself sinking into a hole, a pit that never seems to have a bottom…”

“Hope, Kennedy… Never lose that, for hope is the key to humanity’s strength…” Josh steps over to the cabin and raps on the wall, Leon grabbing his leg in pain as the boat shifts direction.

Leon watches as the singular concrete and steel structure at the center of Crater Lake starts to grow closer and closer, “No way to talk you out of this, huh?”

“No way, Kennedy…” Josh crosses his arms and stares into the distance, “There are too many questions that need your help to be answered… Trust you are in good hands, though.”

_Another cryptic answer, what the hell is going on here?_ Leon grunts in pain as he pushes himself back upright before Josh helps him back into the back of the van.

“Must keep up appearances, but I think I can at least alleviate one small problem,” Josh produces a rather extensive medical kit from a bag in the van and tears open the leg of his pants right where the bullet tore through his leg so long ago.

_How long has it been, exactly?_ He thinks about asking Josh, but that is stopped as pain courses through his leg as the African Agent pours a mixture he knows all too well onto the poorly-healing wound.

Herbs, the same medical herbs that saved his life so many times in Raccoon City and countless theaters around the world, “These suckers grow everywhere, don’t they?”

“Survivor’s Hope, we called them back in Kijuju…” _Called?_

11

Chris sits in the passenger seat of the large van as it rumbles down the road, his eyes lost on the scenery, “Still with us, Redfield?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Jill… How is it we constantly find ourselves taking on bigger and bigger things? First it was a nightmare, then it became a company, and now it’s the government… What’s next?” his hands clench tightly, causing the leather they are wrapped in to squeak.

Jill smiles and turns the wheel, guiding the van onto the interstate, “The world, Chris… The only thing left is for you and me to take on the world…”

Chris smirks and reaches for one of her hands on the steering wheel, but Claire chimes in, “How much longer to Tall Oaks?”

“A few more hours, Claire-bear, go back to sleep,” Chris drops the hand and returns to staring out the window, “someone needs to get some sleep…”

Tall Oaks, if what research they have been able to perform is right, is the hometown of President Benford and the site of the University that both Adam Benford and Cranston Reed attended. Chris stares at the piece of paper they printed out before they left for Tall Oaks, the face of the President eliciting a bit of rage from the elder Redfield.

“President Benford is scheduled for a Commencement Speech at Ivy University in a little under two days. What’s our plan?” Jill knows the plan and Chris knows that she’s just trying to get him to focus on the main goal.

He sighs and folds the paper in his hands, “As soon as we get into Tall Oaks, we find a place to set up shop and work on finding the dark secret they are hiding in here. According to some of the land records you were able to find there are a few promising locales we can use for a minor headquarters. What tickles your fancy, Jill? We have a closed gas station, an old library, ooh, look here, there’s even an abandoned police station. There’s a recently-closed bar we can hole up in, especially if the alcohol is still there.”

“Yeah, let’s shack up in a highly-flammable building,” there’s that sharp tongue he loves so much.

Chris peers back into the back of the van, smiling as Claire and Sherry have fallen sleep, with the younger girl lying in Claire’s lap. Chris knows that Claire is focused now on finding Leon and stopping Cranston, but once that is over, she’s going to fall apart quickly. He knows that to be true because if anything ever happened to Jill, he’d be lost forever. Chris, even though he’s been the loudest voice for Leon being dead, finds himself hoping the ex-cop is still alive for his sister’s sake.

“Besides Rico, who else can we trust in the B.S.A.A.?” Jill’s question catches him off-guard, but he soon finds himself answering it without a thought.

“That’s up to who Rico can get to help us…” that is the happiest of answers.

11

“Rico, my dear friend, sorry for the wait, I was busy setting up a prisoner transfer. How are you? Is the chair comfortable enough?” he knows the chair is the least comfortable piece of furniture in the entire building, but it’s just polite to ask.

Nothing shows on Rico’s face, the man showing a stone-cold demeanor Cranston thought was only possible from Leon, “What did you want to see me for, sir?”

“To the point as always,” Cranston pulls out a folder, full of blank papers of course, and proceeds to shuffle through them as he pretends to scan them, “Chris has always spoken highly of you, which is why I’ve agreed to accept your transfer from the field, but also offer you a promotion, to Commander of the entirety of the S.O.U. Let me be the first to congratulate you, Commander Pike.”

Rico stands up at this, his mouth agape, “You are giving me Chris’s job?”

“Well with his demise at the hands of the Los Illuminados Cult in Spain and his shining recommendation, it was a no-brainer. Now, have you finished the report on the China Incident, or should I pass that off to your replacement?” Reed watches the younger man with an intense gaze as he registers the promotion.

As the Air Force Pilot from Arkansas gladly accepts the promotion and promises to finish up the China Report by end of day, Cranston sighs heavily as he offers no sign that he left Chris and the others alive on that freighter. He watches the elated Commander almost run out of his office as contempt and hate fills his heart.

_Am I able to trust anyone in this cursed Organization?_ He shuffles through the stack of real papers sitting on the right side of his desk.

There appears to be more and more reports of rapidly-mutating bio-weapons all around the world. This is exactly what he’s been hoping for, the push the B.S.A.A. needs to get even more funding to expand even further. It’s a twisted world, where to further increase the power of an Anti-B.O.W. organization, Cranston would need to embrace the use of Bio-Organic Weapons themselves.

“What the hell? DDDDIIIIAAAANNNEEEE!!!!!” some of these reports are dated back two weeks, how have these not seen his desk sooner?

11

Rico drops into the chair at his desk, happy to trade the hard plastic of the Director’s chair for the lush leather of his own. He rubs the sleeve of his jacket across his face to clear the sweat from it, his talk with Cranston was harder than he imagined. Especially since it didn’t end with his termination or murder for his part in hiding Chris and the others from Cranston, but a promotion to the role once held by Chris Redfield himself.

There is a new email on his encrypted account, “Finally reaching out to me, are you?”

The email is from Chris, who informs him of their plans to tie Cranston to President Benford. There is also a request at the end of the email, hoping to find a pretty long list of people who would turn against Cranston and fight with them.

He cracks his fingers and types into the keyboard the first of a few names, “Joshua Stone.”

_Several members of the S.O.U.s will definitely be loyal to Chris and Jill, there are a few of the lower-level troops. But that’s not exactly what Chris is asking for…_

Rico sighs heavily and types a bit more, “Rico Pike. As you know, also anyone under DeChant will still work with you. I’ll have DeChant see just how many of the Special Operation Units will follow you. Vivere in somnia.”

He hits send and leans back in his chair, smiling as the China Report is still printing out, _I wonder how Josh is going to get Leon out of Leviathan Station?_

11

Leon sighs heavily as Josh ushers him into the concrete structure at gunpoint, “Welcome to Leviathan Station, name of prisoner, name and rank of transferring officer?”

“Prisoner is Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance Operative Leon Kennedy. B.S.A.A. Special Operations Agent Josh Stone from the African Branch is the escorting officer,” the soldier at the single desk nods and types the information into the computer in front of him.

There is a positive tone that emits from the wall to Leon’s left before it splits open into an elevator, “Please continue to escort the prisoner into the holding cells.”

The elevator is dimly lit and silent, Josh not saying a word as he keeps the pistol aimed at the small of Leon’s back, “So, you guys patch me up just to toss me into a hell-hole filled with people the B.S.A.A. has put away? Didn’t know you guys cared so much…”

“We believe in fighting chances, Kennedy. Now,” the doors slowly open into a bright white room, “move forward.”

Leon brings his cuffed hands up to block some of the light, but finds it useless as most of the light seems to come from basically everywhere. He is pushed toward a white desk where a man in a darker colored suit is sitting with a large folder opened up that he is perusing for something.

As the ex-RPD cop is dropped into the chair, the man looks up from over the sunglasses resting on his face, “Leon Kennedy…”

“Ah, Agent Smith! Or do I call you Kay? I know! You’re Jay, aren’t you? I knew they got the casting wrong when they picked Will Smith for that role… Or are you Agent Mulder?” Leon realizes he is over-using the joke, but that’s an automatic response to the feeling of dread creeping into his mind.

The man doesn’t flinch at any of the jokes, which upsets Leon as they were damn good, “Leon Kennedy, Agent of the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, former beat-cop for a day for the Raccoon City Police Department, survivor of the Raccoon Incident along with Claire Redfield, Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliviera, Barry Burton, and…”

“Don’t you say her name…” Leon growls, his hands clenching into tight fists.

The man smirks before saying, “Sherry Birkin. Daughter of William and Annette Birkin, scientists under employ of Umbrella and creators of the G-Virus.”

“You done drudging up terrible memories?” as the man stands up and flips the first page, _Oh god, that was just the first page…_ Leon regrets poking him with the verbal stick.

“Oh no,” the smirk turns into a dark smile, “we are just beginning… Start recording of Psychological examination for detainee Leon Scott Kennedy. Ouroboros Subject Number 312. Interrogator Charles Huntington with Agent Franklin Dougherty overseeing.”

_What the fuck is going on here? Ouroboros? Subject!?_ Leon turns back to look at Josh, who keeps his steel composure and eyes locked forward, ignoring him.

_Oh god damn it all…_

**END**


	3. Chance Encounters

Fire, smoke, the smell of charred remains, and silent screams wake Claire from her slumber with a start, “Chris!?”

Her eyes can’t truly focus yet as her hands and body scrape against asphalt, “Where are we?”

No response as she slowly climbs to her feet, “Jill?” her eyes start to take in the sights around her, causing a sense of dread to fill her body as she recognizes the area she is in, “Sherry!?”

Behind her is the mangled and burning wreckage of a large big-rig, “Just like…”

A series of moans snatches her attention and she spins around to eye the encroaching enemies, “Zombies!?”

It is at this time that Claire gazes down: jeans, biker boots, and that red jacket… She’s back in Raccoon City, but how? There is a weight in her left hand and she lifts the revolver up to aim at the nearest shambling horror. The trigger is squeezed and the body falls, but no time to watch it die as there are more near her. Three more shots bring on two more dead bodies, her mind having trouble combining what’s currently happening with how horrible of a shot she was back then.

“Chris!?” she can’t really be in Raccoon City, it’s impossible!

Booted feet pound into the pavement as the redhead rounds a corner into a dark alley. Kendo’s gunshop should be up ahead, just past a crashed van. She stops just long enough at the van to pick up the loose ammo resting in a crate inside the vehicle and then rushes to open the door to Kendo’s shop.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” the crossbow is aimed at her face, but the man holding it is not Robert Kendo.

Claire’s eyes waver and begin to water, “Leon? Leon it’s me! Claire!”

“Claire? Should I know you?” Leon moves from behind the counter and ushers her toward it as he reaches up to lock the door.

“Yes,” she reaches for him, but he keeps her at bay with the crossbow, “you do know me… It’s Claire, Claire Redfield!”

Something is nagging at her about this scene, but she just keeps moving toward him, which causes the blonde man to step away from the door and in front of the large glass pane facing outside, “I know a Chris Redfield. Designed a gun for him and the other members of S.T.A.R.S. but I don’t know you, Red…”

“Leon,” her hands reach for the crossbow, grasping it tightly as she pulls herself toward him, “you have to remember me…”

She awakens inside the van with a scream as there is shattered glass, screams, tearing skin, and sprays of blood, “LEON!?”

11

Chris looks at the email sent to Pike and smiles wide, “I think we are going to have quite a few friends to help us take on Cranston and Benford, I trust Rico to handle this. There is a small problem though…”

“Isn’t there always?” Jill guides the van onto the off-ramp, glaring at the sign saying that Tall Oaks is another 20 miles away.

“It seems after our supposed ‘deaths’, Cranston has kept a lot of the Special Operations Units out in the field, even going so far as to deny requests to come home to attend the funeral we never got,” that is going to be a lot of pissed off and angry B.S.A.A. members chomping at the bit for a piece of Reed.

“I’m glad we are going to have some more arms in this battle, but we should be worried about Barry and his family. If Leon is alive, us going after him might put them at risk again. Now I’m all for it, trust me, I want nothing more than that sniveling mother fucker dead at my feet, but we have to do what we can to eliminate the risk to those closest to us. We have a lot to lose Chris, especially with taking on people who know where they all are,” the steering wheel groans as she squeezes it tightly.

“LEON!?” Jill almost swerves off the road as Claire wakens with a start, but she manages to regain control as Chris jumps out of his seat and to his sister’s side.

“Claire, what’s wrong?” he reaches for her and sighs as she jumps into his arms.

Sobs wrack her body as she cries harder and harder, “I was back in Raccoon City, Chris… It was different this time though, I was better, stronger… Then I went into Kendo’s Shop, except it wasn’t Kendo, it was… It was…”

Chris sucks in a breath, expecting this at some point, but seems it’s going to be breakdowns whenever they have a moment of downtime, “It’s okay Claire, you don’t have to say anymore… The nightmares are over for now…”

Jill continues driving, not saying a word as Chris holds his sister until she falls asleep again, “Sherry?”

“We are going to find Leon, right?” the young woman is curled up in her seat with her knees pulled up to her chest.

The elder Redfield sighs heavily and gazes down at his sleeping sister, “Yeah, kid. We are going to find him. I promise we will return Kennedy to the family…”

11

Dark gray smoke swirls through the air as fingers type away on a laptop, which is providing the only light in the room, “I have stood exactly where you are, at the precipice of your own greatness with nothing before you but the world. Just like you, I too, felt the fear of endless possibilities and unlimited choices. Yeah, that actually sounds really promising…”

“Mr. President? A call for you,” Adam Benford sighs and puts the cigarette out in the ash tray before taking the phone up in that same hand.

“Yes?” the voice is one he hasn’t heard from in a long time.

“ _Sorry for the interruption, sir, but I finally have the final report of your security detail,_ ” the voice of Helena Harper is one he hasn’t heard in a few months, but is a welcome addition to his security team.

He smiles and continues writing his speech, “That is fantastic news, just like hearing your return to the field. I take it your sister is doing better?”

Silence at first puts Adam on edge, but she squashes it quickly, “ _She’s doing well, thank you. I finally found a doctor who can really help her condition. Now, about the security report…_ ”

“As much as I love your insight and input, it’s just a commencement speech… Whatever security measures you have in place will be fine…” he almost drops the phone at her next statement.

“ _I have solid intel leading me to request we bring the B.S.A.A. in to provide biohazard support,_ ” is she expecting a viral attack here?

He saves the speech and closes the laptop, leaning back in his chair, “And where is this intel coming from?”

“ _Increased reports of Bio-Organic Weapon activity in the surrounding areas. I’ve traced the paths and locations of these reports and I’ve determined there must be a lab within the tri-county area,_ ” she is much better than he remembers, just when did Helena Harper become such a competent BOW-Hunter?

“I’ll take this under advisement and reach out to Director Reed myself. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Go home to your sister, Helena…” he smiles, hangs up the phone, picks it up again, and dials a series of numbers.

“ _Winston, here,_ ” Adam cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder while typing away on his computer.

He smirks and opens the file he was looking for, “Secure the line…”

“ _Right away, sir,_ ” there is a bit of static before Winston returns, “ _How may the Ouroboros Facility be of service to you today?_ ”

Adam scrolls through the file for Helena Harper and clears his throat, “It seems we have someone snooping around the facility, any idea on how you are going to handle it?”

“ _Harper again, sir? We currently have leverage on her. Just waiting on your go ahead to use it,_ ” the President knows he is referring to Helena’s sister, Deborah.

A few years ago, Deborah contracted an unknown illness and was brought before Adam as Helena begged the man she has worked to protect to help her with his connections. He did as requested; putting her up in some of the best hospitals around the world, even footing the bill for a few of them. This was when he received some startling news: Deborah was host to a new parasitic organism. Delving further into her past, Adam and Cranston discovered she was a survivor of the Ashley Graham Incident. She was decreed a ‘Host’ for Las Plagas, which is why she wasn’t affected by the Master Parasite Miss Graham was carrying.

How she escaped from the hospital or made it through the security scans is something that has perplexed President Benford for a while now, “You have my permission to proceed.”

11

“It says here that you overslept on what was supposed to be your first day as a member of the Raccoon City Police Department, is that right?” Leon groans as after a few mind-numbing hours he finally gets to retread how his whole nightmare started.

There is a slam on the desk as his interviewer slams a hand on it, “ANSWER ME!”

“You ever had a bad breakup?” this catches the man slightly off-guard, which amuses the detained man, “Nah, not you… The sunglasses keep them reeled in forever, right? Yes, I got drunk to forget the bitch and overslept, lucky me, right?”

“Is that what you think? Oversleeping saved you from dying in Raccoon City?” the laugh that leaves Leon’s mouth grabs the attention of everyone in and outside the room.

He runs the back of a hand across his forehead to clear the building sweat, “Hell no. Raccoon was dying long before I got there… Was I going in at the end of it? Nope. Jill Valentine got that part. She got to see your people nuke the city. How many innocent lives were lost? We’ll never know.”

“During your ordeal in Raccoon City, you met a woman name-“ Leon stands up and glares through the man.

He clenches his fists and growls out the next line, “You say that name and I will personally feed you your own asshole…”

“Leon!!!” Josh appears behind him and pushes the irate man back into the chair.

He quickly turns and spits on the B.S.A.A. Agent’s boots before locking gazes with the man interviewing him, “What else you going to dig up?”

“I think,” the man in the suit stands up and closes the folder, “that will be enough for today. Guards, relieve Agent Stone of his prisoner.”

Leon prepares to be escorted into some dark hole when suddenly alarms begin to blare throughout the facility, “ ** _Emergency in Sub-Level Nine. Emergency in Sub-Level Nine._** ”

“Sub-Level Nine? What kind of emergency can there be in a Super-Max Terrorist Prison?” Leon watches the eyes of every person in the room, not liking what they say to him.

The man who was questioning him sighs heavily and loosens his tie, “Get Cranston Reed on the line and let him know we have a subject release.”

The captured man blinks slowly before he feels his skin turn cold, “What is Reed experimenting with here?”

“Shut up…” Josh walks up and slowly escorts Leon through an open door and quickly removes the cuffs around his ankles and wrists.

“Did you know about this?” he can’t believe Josh when he shakes his head.

11

Cranston stares at the email before him and feels the rage build up, “Are you seriously trying to replace me? You decrepit old fool… I have taken the B.S.A.A. from a rag-tag group of borderline domestic terrorists and made them a strong addition to the Federal Biohazard Defense… WHY RIP ME FROM THE VERY THING I BUILT!?”

The email before him dictates that Cranston Reed is going to be promoted to a position within the United Nations overseeing all Anti-Bioterrorism actions worldwide and a nobody named Clive O’Brian will take his position as Director of the North American B.S.A.A. His desk is cleared off with one swipe of his arm as Cranston glares at the face of the man who is going to stepping into his shoes. Cranston wouldn’t be angry if it wasn’t for the fact that Cranston will no longer be able to hide his back-room dealings from the rest of the UN now. Running the entire B.S.A.A. is an amazing opportunity that he has completely squandered in his quest to bring the fledgling bioterrorism agency into the front of the world.

_If he digs far enough he’s going to ruin everything… I have to find a way to end him, now… What do I have to work with?_ Cranston thumbs through aged papers tucked into a well-worn folder he pulled from a secret compartment in his desk.

_I still have active samples of T, G, Veronica, Las Plaga… Abyss? The virus we recovered from the ocean-liner used by Il Vetro during the Terragrigia Panic… Yes, you’ll do nicely…_ Reed steps from behind his desk and quickly makes his way out of his office and down the hall, middle finger pressing the call button for the elevator before anyone can say a single word to him.

The elevator ride is uneventful, until Cranston pulls a card from the inside pocket of his vest and slides it into the reader mounted above the button panel, “ _Please verify retinal scan._ ”

He bends down, allowing the lens to capture an image of his eye, “ _Identity confirmed. Proceeding to Sub-Level Three._ ”

The elevator picks up a bit of speed as a smile crosses Cranston’s lips for the first time in a long time, “No one will take all that I’ve built away from me…”

11

_There is nothing, no light, no sounds, no smells, and nothing to be felt. Then, a smoky smell, one of bacon, followed by sizzling sounds, lulls the female Redfield from her slumber. Blue eyes slowly flutter open and Claire smiles, already knowing what is awaiting her as she sits up and stretches._

_“Morning, beautiful…” the voice is deep and lovely, the smile growing wider as the door is pushed open and an aproned Leon steps in with a tray of food._

_She pulls the comforter up around her legs and pats the bed quickly, “Gimme!!”_

_A laugh that strangely breaks her heart fills the room as her love nods and sits the tray of breakfast items in her lap, “Enjoy! I’m going to finish my plate and be up soon, Claire-bear.”_

_There it is again, another pang of pain and guilt, but the food smells so wonderful and Leon’s smile quickly pushes it back down. The fork is dropped into the scrambled eggs, the woman giggling to herself as the cheese inside is melty and stretches across the plate. The yellow mass is brought to her lips, but the fork is dropped as she hears loud gunshots surround her. The smell of bacon turns into the iron-filled scent of hot blood._

_Claire covers her ears and closes her eyes as the sounds of cooking are replaced by screams, his screams, “NO! NO!!!”_

_She jumps from the bed and scrambles through the door and down the stairs, where she faces the closed door to their kitchen. She pushes it open, the door turning into a metal hatch leading onto the bridge of a container ship. Before her no longer stands the happy confident chef, but the broken and bleeding form of the man she’s grown so close to._

_Blood-covered fingers reach out for her as Leon says, “Take care of her, Chris! I got this!”_

_Red hair fills the air as she dives toward him, arms outstretched to pick him up and take him away from this mess. Claire falls through him and crashes onto the floor, where Chris picks her up and takes her back down the stairs, Leon’s dying eyes reforming just long enough to make contact with her own heart-broken eyes._

“God DAMN IT ALL!!!!” Claire wakes from her sleep again and punches the back of Chris’s seat as hard as she can.

Looks and unheard words are exchanged between the two in the front and Chris swaps seats with Jill quickly, the brunette survivor pulling the redhead into her arms, “It’s okay, Claire. We’re here for you… Tell me about it…”

“Nightmares, nothing but nightmares and dark dreams…” the sobs wracking her body make it nearly impossible for the words to come out clear enough.

Jill runs her fingers through Claire’s red locks, shushing the crying woman as she looks at Chris in the rearview mirror with a look of worry on her face, “Claire, the darkest dreams are only amplified by your brightest hopes… If it’s Leon giving you these terrible nightmares; that just shows how strong your hope of finding him is. Use that hope and the strength that gives you to power through and make your way back to him…”

Claire slowly picks her head off of Jill’s shoulder, her soaked eyes resting on the small frame of Sherry, “Sherry… I’m so sorry, I should be stronger for you…”

“You were so strong while we were captured by Krauser… You’ve earned a moment to be human, Claire. If anyone here has earned that moment, it’s you…” her words are kind, doing a small wonder and helping Claire through this terrible moment.

The blonde slides over to rest behind her friend, the woman she sees as more of a mother than Annette ever was, “I promise you, we will find Leon. Nothing is going to stop us, Claire. There is no problem Jill can’t solve, no monster Chris can’t kill, and no obstacle you can’t overcome!”

Claire smiles at the girl, appreciating her efforts to cheer her up, but it’s a deep cavern of despair she’s in, “Thanks, kiddo. I’ll be okay. Hey, big bro?”

“Hmm?” he doesn’t actually look back, his eyes focused on the road.

Claire leans forward and stares out the windshield, “Is that Tall Oaks?”

“Yup,” Chris nods slightly and stares at the small city approaching them, “and it looks like it’s on fire…”

**END**


	4. Strangled Wishes

Jill pulls out her handgun and checks it as well as most of her personal effects as Chris guides the van through the slightly congested streets of the outskirts of Tall Oaks, “Should the roads be this packed this early in the morning?”

“Well, when the President is coming into town, people want to see it, Jill…” Chris guides the van through several crowded streets as more and more people begin to fill them and the sidewalks on either side.

Claire and Sherry both lean forward and keep an eye on the pedestrians, with Claire speaking next, “So our plan here is what, exactly?”

“Try to identify any connection between Reed and the President and see if President Benford is willing to help us take him down. Worst case scenario is that we are going to have to take down some of the most powerful men in the world, as well as take on the B.S.A.A. Simple, right?” Claire admits this is probably the simplest thing they are going to have to do.

The streets are lively for being so early in the morning. President Adam Benford’s speech isn’t set to begin for another 12 hours, but he does have meet-and-greets set up through the city. This gives the group plenty of time to locate and set up somewhere hidden. The rest of the group is oblivious as Claire looks left at Chris, then right at Jill, and then slowly slides back into the back of the van.

Slender fingers slide into the front pocket of her jacket and pull out a brand-new cellphone, _Leon…_

The email application is opened and Claire quickly creates a new email: KennedyFan1, then begins typing a heartfelt email to Leon’s emergency email, _Hey, Leon. Sitting here missing you after our brief time together. Are we ever going to take that second train ride? God I feel like such a girl you know? If trains aren’t your thing, we can go jet-skiing. Or diving… It doesn’t matter to me what we do, as long as I get to see you again. Things are going well here, it’s a busy time, people everywhere, but my brother is planning a stop at the largest oak tree forest in the country, joy… Well, take care Leon and I hope you still have hope and light… Love, C._ She hits send as a tear wells up and crawls down her cheek.

11

Leon leans against the file cabinet as Josh paces around the room, “So what’s the plan, Agent Stone?”

“I’m thinking, Leon. All we have are my sidearm and a knife, not much to go into a battle with,” he stops and shakes his head, “but that is assuming there is even a fight to have. This is Leviathan Station, a secure government prison, what could there be here that would have them running from the interrogation of a traitor?”

The blonde man fakes being shot in the heart, “Ouch… Heard you were a good shot, but damn… Give a man a break here. Seriously though, I’ve gone into battle with much less. How many rounds you got?”

“Three magazines,” this is when they hear them, the screams, the roars, the faded gunshots, “and not enough for whatever that is…”

Josh tosses Leon the knife and the two slowly approach the door before exchanging nods and pushing it open. The scent of iron is heavy in the air, which startles them both because of how little time has passed since this started. The African Agent keeps his gun aimed toward the floor for disabling shots, but Leon uses the knife to bring Josh’s weapon up into the range for headshots before motioning toward his previous interrogation room. Leon approaches and places a hand on the door as Josh stands a little behind him, ready to enter and sweep the room.

“Ready to see what secrets our boss has been hiding?” the trepidation in Leon’s voice is mirrored by Josh’s answer.

The handgun is held at the ready, “Not really…”

A small laugh is shared between the two before the door is opened, with Josh stepping in first and Leon not far behind, “What in the name of Africa…?”

“Oh, just fucking shoot it!”

11

A vial of dark red liquid is shaken in the hands of Cranston Reed, “Would you actually do the trick, though?”

“Maybe you should try this one…” the voice is soft, silky, with a hidden strength, just like the hand that reaches for a small box with a blue gaseous substance within.

A smile crosses the lips of the B.S.A.A. Director as the box is picked up in his hands, “Ah, yes… We were surprised to find this little beauty in that lab in Rome… You always do know the best ways to go about things, my friend.”

“Naturally… It’s why they brought me into the fold after I brought the Birkin girl to you,” there is a flash of red as the woman crosses the room.

Reed nods and offers the box to her, “Will you be able to get this to Tall Oaks?”

“As it was intended, or a gift they will open?” that voice, he knows it is playing him, but if she can truly deliver on his darkest wishes, he’ll take the bait.

Cranston turns to exit the room, but looks back and replies, “However you see fit, Miss Wong, you haven’t disappointed me yet.”

11

Red hair flutters in the wind as Claire steps out onto the balcony of an abandoned bank Chris decided would be best suited as their base of operations within Tall Oaks, “You just chose this because it’s one of the tallest buildings, didn’t you?”

She jumps as a large rifle is dropped onto the stone railing next to her, “Great sight-lines. Could take that bastard down if he ever shows up here before he knows he’s dead…”

The younger Redfield smiles at her brother, letting the breeze calm her body and quell the sadness, “You’re right… We have a job to do.”

“And we’re going to see it through,” Jill finishes it as she hands Claire a cup of coffee.

Claire overlooks the city, hoping that they will find the answers they are looking for within the brick and mortar that is a staple of the town below them. Leon wouldn’t give up, he didn’t give up, so neither will she, he deserves that much from her and more. The coffee does well to ignite the fire in her body and mind and it gives her an idea.

“Sherry?”

The blonde woman appears next to her and smiles, “Lovely city isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” there is a smile that crawls from Claire’s face to Sherry’s, “probably has a lot of money to spare…”

There is a long pause as the older pair tries to figure out what the younger pair is up to, “Take a walk, then?”

“Take a walk,” Claire nods and Sherry runs from the balcony and through the building, but not before grabbing her deck of cards.

“You know you are encouraging bad behavior, right? Girl is going to cross the wrong person one day,” Chris adjusts the scope on the rifle and takes another look down the sights.

Jill chuckles and sips her coffee, “I feel sorry for whoever that poor bastard is going to be…”

11

Sometimes you have seen enough stuff where you just don’t care anymore, sometimes life can still surprise you, then sometimes, just sometimes, life finds a way to make you almost piss yourself in fear, “Gone!”

“What!?” Josh fires two more rounds into the form as Leon dives behind the table, weaponless.

He turns to face his newfound partner and calls out, “GONE! I threw the knife, it went into the body, and now it’s GONE!”

“Well, this shit is just looking better and better!” three more shots to stop the creature from approaching Leon, then he ejects the magazine, and replaces it with a fresh one, leaving them with just one spare magazine to use against a monster that doesn’t seem to be feeling the lead.

Dark blonde hair flips through the air as Leon shoves his upper body into the large table and flips it over and onto the creature, but it does nothing more than slowly fall through it, or around it, or… It doesn’t fucking matter, “This might be where we die, Josh!”

“Was a pleasure working with you, Agent Kennedy,” the African B.S.A.A. Agent drops a light line before he grabs the older man and pulls him back as the monstrosity brings its hands down together with the intent of crushing Leon.

As it slowly returns to a ready and standing position, the two operatives can finally get a look at it: Large, black-skinned, almost ethereal and see-through. Whatever Reed has been working with down here, it’s not something that needs to get out. Bright green eyes almost shed light around the nearly formless face of the creature as it leans back and releases a balance-destroying shriek. Both men drop to a knee and brace themselves as the shriek continues to assault them.

“Get down!” they don’t need any more of a push and the two drop to the ground as a man steps up behind them with a large weapon.

The trigger is squeezed and the blue light on the end flashes repeatedly before a loud whine reverberates through the room. Leon looks up just in time to see the creature stop its shriek and flail around like it might even be in pain. Josh risks looking up at the man wielding this strange weapon and realizes it’s the interrogator from earlier. He takes a step closer, keeping the weapon poised on the creature, eyes locked on the beast. Leon slowly begins to rise to his feet as the creature begins to spin and shrink, its shriek soundless. The onslaught continues until the creature is flat on the ground and no larger than a German Shephard.

“Okay, now that it’s taken care of, I can deal with you…” the interrogator places the weapon on the ground and walks toward Leon and Josh, helping them up and nodding.

Leon steps back from him, prepared for everything except the punch that Josh drives across their savior’s face, “You son of a bitch! The B.S.A.A. was created to STOP these creatures, not **_MAKE_** them!”

“What did they tell you Leviathan Station was?” his voice is dark and serious.

Josh cracks his knuckles, wanting to punch him again, but deciding against it, “A prison for terrorists…”

The laugh that breaks through them is unsettling, proving to Leon and Josh that the B.S.A.A. might be more broken than originally thought, “Partially true. You want to know the best part about terrorist inmates? They have no rights, no one will miss them, and we can use them to develop new weapons to save the world from what goes bump in the night…”

“Even if you must create that which bumps in the night first?” Leon clenches his fists, “Is that the purpose little Sherry Birkin had?”

“If we would have gotten our hands on her first, yes, she would have been a part of our program. We have samples of everything from the T-Virus all the way up to the most recent T-Abyss from the Terragrigia Incident,” the last one causes Leon to tilt his head.

“T-Abyss?” he thinks hard, “Terragrigia was destroyed after someone released Hunter-Class B.O.W.s throughout the city. Where did you get this new virus from?” something else is bugging him, “Just who the hell are you!?”

“My name is Charles Huntington and we found the T-Abyss Virus when we tracked the Il Veltro signal to their base and raided it… You’ve already seen one of the creatures it can create after we perfected it here,” he waves his hand around the room, which is just asking for what comes next.

“Here?” Leon looks around, “in this room? It’s kind of small, isn’t it?”

There is a groan as Charles looks down at his feet and clenches his fists, “I fucking hate you…”

“It’s part of my charm,” he dismisses the admission of hatred and looks down at the weapon, “Soundwaves, huh? So, what was the original plan for using this virus?”

Charles loosens his tie and tosses it aside before picking the weapon up again, “It was originally designed to expand upon coming in contact with seawater and infect everything in the ocean.”

There is a long minute of silence before Josh tries to say something, but Charles holds up a hand, “Yeah, I said that… As much as I hate the two of you right now, if we are to get this shit under control, I’m going to need your help.”

“Weapons, a map, and a plan,” Leon is cold and quick with the demands.

11

The elder Redfield sibling slides a new scope onto the rifle in his hands, hoping this one will do the job he needs it to do, “So, a quick question…”

“Okay…” the spiral of smoke snakes around his face as he answers his sister from around the cigarette.

His redheaded sister drops down next to him as he continues setting the scope onto the semi-automatic rifle, “We have been scraping by the past few weeks with basically nothing but ramen, tap water, and the occasional treat when Sherry has a good day. Where did you get this rifle from? Actually…” her eyes scan the room and take in the numerous weapon cases, “Where did you get all of these guns from?”

A chuckle that does not put her mind at ease, “While you were so busy crying over pretty-boy Kennedy as we moved from safe-house to safe-house, Jill and I were busy tearing the walls apart and looting them of all the stuff we’ve hidden over the years.” The scope is brought up to his right eye and he nods, happy with the alignment, “Sherry agreed to take care of food and basic supplies with her little card games, pickpocketing skills, and whatever else she had, while we used the cash stored in the houses to keep us hidden.”

“I can’t believe that,” Claire shakes her head and laughs a little, “Jill was furious with that damn laptop and all this time she could’ve bought another one?”

“Yeah,” her brother returns her laugh with a darker chuckle, “we could just walk into an electronics store, with their cameras, and buy a laptop. No, the cash we had went into getting that van we drove here in, pay people to buy things we needed, basically just stay out of the light, Claire-bear…”

There is a long silence where Chris changes another setting on the scope and checks it, “JESUS CHRIST!”

Claire giggles, having snuck right in front of the scope as he lifted it, staring into his right eye through it, “Aw, did I scare the big, strong, over-steroided brother of mine?”

“There is nothing,” he flexes and smiles as the sleeves on his shirt tear, “steroid about my body…”

“I can vouch for that!” Claire groans as Jill calls out from the other room.

_Children, they are both still children…_ Chris trades a not-so-harmless flirt with Jill, _Okay, they are teenagers…_

**END**


	5. Coy Shrieks

Leon watches as Charles slides a clear card with a single blue strip into a card reader in the elevator, “Is that a biometric card?”

“Quite the eye you have there,” his former interrogator nods and waits for the elevator to descend, “state of the art tech here. My DNA signature is fed into the blue strip, but it’s only activated by my fingerprints on the card itself.”

“All this tech,” Josh scoffs at the card and crosses his arm, “and you guys couldn’t do a damn thing to help Kijuju…”

The remainder of the ride is silent, Leon noticing that Charles seems to be lost in thought but he doesn’t push it. Eventually the steel coffin slows to a stop and the doors part in the middle, disappearing into the top and bottom of the shaft. The air that greets them is cool and slightly damp, possibly from how far underwater they are now. Charles pays the two other occupants no attention as he quickly exits and makes his way down the corridor and turning left at the end, forcing Leon and Josh to hurry to keep up.

“You want weapons? Pick what you’d like,” the card is slipped through the reader and the magnetic lock disengages, revealing an armory that almost rivals that of Chris Redfield’s personal stash.

_Almost_ , Leon chuckles at what he knows has been sitting in Chris Redfield’s house in Montana.

Josh steps into the room, picks up a T91 with a collapsible stock, pulls the bolt back, and then releases it, “Do you have a spare bag for ammunition?”

“Always,” Charles reaches into a locker, removes a small bag, and tosses it at Josh, but Leon catches it.

“Load yourself up and I’ll fill the bag,” Josh nods at his partner, grabs a tactical vest, and begins loading the pockets with magazines for both the pistol and his rifle.

The next few minutes are spent picking out weapons for Leon, filling the bag with extra ammunition and explosives, and discussing tactics for the monsters that lie ahead, “You said they are based off the T-Abyss virus, right? Exactly how did that virus make that floating bastard upstairs?”

“Researching various wildlife found in the deepest reaches of the ocean, we found an interesting little creature called a Telescope Octopus,” Charles slings the sound-rifle over his shoulder and picks up a single HK45, his left eyebrow raising before he quips, “You think that thing was floating??”

“It was floating,” Leon says solidly and Josh nods to accentuate it.

The chuckle that leaves their tentative partner’s mouth startles them both, “Oh no, see, it walks on several of its arms, or, well, guess you’d call them tentacles. Field-Agents love putting scary names to things all the time… They are the most translucent part of the body so you weren’t able to notice them during the fight.”

“What did it spray us with when he first walked into the room?” Josh reaches up to swipe some of it from his face, noticing that it has dried into a fine powder.

“That?” Charles reaches up to touch it, but shakes his head and smiles, “That is a potent neurotoxin that feeds on the fear-center of the brain. It causes your mind to overreact, see things, terrible things. It’s short-lasting though, so that’s a positive.”

Leon pulls the slide back on a Desert Eagle and releases it, “Why does the soundwave weapon work on it?”

“The body has been made of a concussive…” Charles struggles with the right words, “Concussion conductive organic material is what they called it. It allows the shriek it releases to be louder than usually possible, but also means that sonic weapons can easily reverberate through the body and destabilize it for a bit of time.”

The two men are fully equipped and ready to go, looking at Charles with expecting eyes, “Ah, yes. The map? Here.”

A small wrist computer is handed to Josh, who straps it over his left wrist, “Right, then. Shall we continue?”

The blonde agent steps toward the door, smirking before looking back at Charles, “I think you should lead the way… You know where to go better than we do.”

“Quite,” the response is full of apprehension, which puts both Leon and Josh on edge.

11

A flash of black leather and red cotton between rooftops, the hushed winding sound of steel cable being fed through a hookshot, and finally the soft chuckle of a woman on the edge of darkness, “Almost in position.”

“ _Fantastic news, Wong. You are an hour ahead of schedule, I’ll inform your rendezvous target of the earlier arrival time,_ ” the voice means nothing to Ada, just like the hundred other voices calling themselves her ‘handler’ over the years.

Nothing else need be said between them as the spy clears another jump between two buildings, her outfit almost not designed for this type of activity, almost. The package, given to her by Cranston, rests in a shock-proof container at the small of her back and is ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice. Some small part of her wonders if there was ever a version of her that would be put off at the idea of possibly killing innocent civilians and children. Maybe once, but that’s long been buried by her training and tutelage under Albert Wesker. As the lithe espionage agent glides over another gap, a car alarm blares beneath her, but it doesn’t stop her sprint to her destination.

There, three buildings away, a man stands in a perfectly-ironed suit, hands tucked in his pockets as he props one foot up on a small metal crate. Two more jumps, a shot of her hookshot, and one more roll finds Ada Wong standing face-to-face with the man she is to see for the next step of her assignment. No words are exchanged, just a single piece of paper and a match from him to her. This shouldn’t feel normal, but it’s all Ada’s dealt with since she escaped from Raccoon City that fateful night, G-Virus sample intact.

**_Attach this device to your present and plant in the main courtyard of Ivy University_** _,_ she chuckles dryly and sets the paper alight with the match provided to her.

Another day, another dollar in the life of Ada Wong.

11

“You want to try that again?” Sherry shuffles the cards in her hands while the men across from her root through their pockets, “Or… Are you all out of money?”

“There’s no way a little brat like you could possibly be this good at poker! You’re cheating!” he’s just as loud as he looks: all tattoos and scars from long-removed piercings.

“Yup,” Sherry holds up her arms, showing them she has absolutely nothing up her sleev- well sleeveless arms, “I’m totally hiding Aces and Queens in my armpits here, guys… Sorry to take all your money and run, but all the fun’s gone.”

The blonde girl steps away from the table, growls as a hand wraps around her left arm, and she spins around, driving her left foot across another man’s face, “Is this how it’s going to go? Three big strong men attacking a defenseless woman? Have some common sense here, it’s not going to go well for you…”

“You bitch!” the man she kicked, wearing a decent suit now covered in blood, jumps up and lunges for her.

_Use your small size to your advantage. You won’t have much muscle due to your natural body size, so use your hard-points. Knees, elbows, forehead, and shoulders_ , Leon’s voice rings out in her head as Sherry ducks a little bit and quickly shoves her shoulder into the man’s stomach, causing him to cough loudly and double-over.

One down and it seems like the other two are going to play it smart, “Thanks for all the cash, gents!”

As Sherry exits the warehouse office to the lively streets of mid-afternoon Tall Oaks, she wonders where she got her sarcastic mouth from, “Oh, right, Leon.”

There aren’t many memories in her mind of Leon from right after Raccoon City, even with the four or five months they were town-hopping, but she always remembers how sarcastic he was to people who threatened either one of them. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who lost something that night as Leon started to change. From the main street, Sherry hears a form crash through the same door she exited and slam into a parked car, setting off an alarm and drawing the attention of passersby. Blue eyes follow the turn of her head, but instead of locking on the man apparently trying to chase her through a broken nose and swollen eye, they glance up to see a woman’s form cross over the alley.

_Curious…_ she pays it no more mind as she is forced to vacate the immediate area as the man screams after her.

Her pockets are full of loose bills and as Sherry turns toward the block where Claire and the others are holed up, she mentally counts her take, _Walked in there with a hundred bucks; walk out with over a grand. Suckers._

11

Claire sits next to Jill as she hooks the laptop up to a TV they ‘procured’ a bit ago, “Hah! Got this bad boy to work!”

“Proud of you, Jill,” Chris calls out as he dumps another case of bullets onto the floor in front of him and proceeds to load more magazines with the loose rounds.

His sister smirks at the sight of her brother, almost like he’s playing with a container of Legos, “What are we looking at, here?”

“This,” the brunette taps away at the keyboard, pulling up a Google Maps image of Tall Oaks, “is how we are going to plan our movements once we start getting information on the B.S.A.A.’s protection details. We know that Adam is going to be giving his speech here,” the cursor is circled over a spot of green surrounded by concrete and brick, “Ivy University’s main courtyard. So, we can imagine there to be snipers, some helicopters, patrols, and undercover protection.”

“Is that all?” it sounds like a monumental undertaking, but Claire knows that getting President Benford to flip on Cranston is the fastest way to bring this all to a close. “Do we have a basic plan so far?”

“I won’t be going in, that’s for sure,” her brother’s voice no longer sounds off from Claire’s right, but from her left, where she finds him currently making a quick sandwich from the packaged lunch-meats in the mini-fridge Sherry brought in from somewhere.

_Where does she keep finding all this stuff?_

Jill turns to join Claire in staring at the leader of their little team, “Why is that?”

“Someone has to keep the snipers in check. I can do that from here,” he bites into the sandwich, chews loudly because he knows it bothers Claire to no end, and nods toward his perch as he swallows the mashed sandwich, “take a look.”

Claire steps up to the balcony, where Chris has his bipod mounted with a Spotter’s Scope, and places her right eye against the pad of the scope, “This covers a lot more of the University than I thought it would… Are you sure you’re good enough, big bro?”

“Kiss my ass, sis,” Chris stands beside her and takes a long drag of the cigarette in his lips before letting the smoke snake around his face with a slow exhale.

“Guys!” Sherry’s excited voice is a welcome addition to their little pow-wow, “You’ll never guess how good my day was!!!”

“You’ve been gone,” the redhead checks her watch, “all of four hours, how good can it really b-“ and is silenced as the wad of cash is dropped on the table.

_What have I released upon the world? Last time I saw you, you were an innocent little girl. You returned to me a card-shark and hustler…_

11

Watching Charles move, Leon sees the presence of Government training, something that clearly takes away a bit of humanity as Charles’s eyes scan things like it’s only about the inorganic details. The blonde man doesn’t want to even picture the kind of man he would be if he went through the same training, the same tearing away of his humanity. Josh keeps up with the man he’s watching, but Leon continues thinking about the person he would be…

_Probably all sarcasm and protocol… Traveling the world, offering my American humor to all those that have no humor at all…_ the thought makes him chuckle, imagining traveling to far off locations and war-torn areas, battling either corrupt world leaders or maniacal arms dealers.

Another corner is taken, this one leading to a larger room that the trio begins scanning for threats as they make their way across it, _Oh man, I’d probably be a lady-killer, dropping pick-up lines left and right, leaving them wanting… Be a real Man of Mystery. Name’s Kennedy, Leon S. Kennedy._ He stops his walk and shakes his head, _I would never, ever, just say my middle initial…_

“On your left, Leon,” he spins around at Josh’s warning and fires a pair of rounds from his Desert Eagle into the face of this monstrosity.

Brackish blood sprays into the air as the malformed creature flips through the air and drops to the ground, no longer moving or breathing. Several more burst from the doors and dark areas of the room, Josh and Charles immediately dropping rounds into the creatures. Leon feels one approaching behind him and he spins around, bringing his right leg up into a roundhouse that flips the creature into the air and down to the ground, where the B.S.A.A. Agent drains another two rounds into its head.

“Are these things supposed to actually overrun and kill us?” Josh’s words force a smirk to Leon’s lips.

“Maybe,” he shoulder-charges another one, “if they were going up against some normal grunts…”

Leon takes a second to actually inspect these mutated humans approaching them. He can see the clear influence of the Trench and its lifeforms in the Virus as this thing before him looks like it has the mouth of an Angler fish. Glancing around he sees a few more nods to the deepest part of the ocean, more horrifying creatures that will definitely give him nightmares for a few weeks after.

Halfway through the room and already they have killed over a dozen of the creatures, “Glad to see these things actually die from a gunshot to the head!”

“Definitely a change of pace from what I saw in Spain...” flashbacks to the infected villagers there almost brings Leon to a stop.

_Yeah, this is another nightmare I’ll be fighting…_

**END**


	6. Timid Demands

Deep breath, release, squeeze, pull bolt back, and push bolt forward. Deep breath, release, squeeze, pull bolt back, and push bolt forward. This mantra is repeated over and over as Chris keeps one eye pressed to the scope of his rifle. He isn’t sure what is going to be awaiting him down in that courtyard in his view, but he is going to be prepared for whatever might be presented by the Secret Service and his own B.S.A.A.

“You keep playing with it you are going to go blind, or it will fall off, or some other masturbatory reference,” Claire leans against the open door and fidgets with the strap for her holster.

The older Redfield just holds up a middle finger and continues his movements of a deep breath, release, squeeze, pull bolt back, and push bolt forward, “Sherry came across a decent bit of information during her little poker game today. Apparently, there is a massive scramble concerning the President’s trip down here. Unconfirmed threats of an unknown nature.”

“Do you have anything we can actually work with?” Chris starts placing magazines under the railing as Claire steps out to meet him.

He glances up as a piece of paper is dangled just out of view, “A name? Helena Harper?” the piece of paper is flipped over, “Head of the President’s Secret Service detail? You want me to press the Secret Service’s number one hound for information?”

“No. I’m going. You and Jill are two of the most famous faces this side of the Atlantic and Pacific. I can slip a bit more under the radar,” she swipes a hand through her now fiery-red hair, “Especially with a bit of make-up and a nice dress…”

As his sister leaves him alone on the balcony, Chris looks closer at the paper his sister handed him, “A Press Dinner?”

11

“What in the fucked up Nine Hells is this shit?”

Josh steps up to the railing, perches a foot on the lower rail, a hand on the upper rail, and peers over the edge into the water, “Looks like a breeding chamber… For the T-Abyss?”

Their escort steps up and nods slowly, “The virus is a crude, yet effective, creation. Spawned from the depths of the Trench itself. We’ve been trying to replicate those same conditions closer to ground level, but have as of yet been unsuccessful. So, we are forced to continue harvesting specimens from the Trench.”

“Kinky and fishy, awesome,” the deadpan tone from Leon is not lost on the other two, Charles taking this queue to usher the two soldiers through another door.

Leon stares down into the water as they travel across the tank, “I heard a story from Jill once about the Arklay Mansion.”

“If you,” Josh presses a hand into his former prisoner’s chest, “are going to insinuate what I think you are, stop it right now. We don’t need that kind of luck brought down upon us.”

He thinks about the story he was just about to tell, feels the color fall from his face, and reinstates his ‘serious face’, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Images of Claire fill his mind as the trio crosses the murky water beneath them, her blue eyes flashing into his line of sight and almost stopping him dead in his tracks. He wonders how she is doing in her endeavor to scour the Earth for him. He stops mid-step and shakes his head before quickly making his way past Josh and up to Charles.

“Hey,” his voice is soft but urgent, grabbing the older gentleman’s attention, “is there a networked computer I can use?”

“What in the hell for?” Charles keeps an eye on the water for signs of movement as they continue their trek, “Don’t know if you’ve realized this, but we are in a spot of trouble…”

“Yeah,” Leon quickly opens the door and clears the room, “I know that, but is there a networked computer I can get access to?”

Charles closes the door behind them and sighs, shaking his head, “Not on this floor. We’d need to get back up the ground-levels. Sorry, but what’s so important?”

“Claire,” Josh steals the wind from his sails as he reloads his weapon before moving on to the next door.

The elder in the room scratches his chin and turns toward the man who just spoke, “Seriously? A woman?”

“Yup,” Leon slides a fresh magazine into his handgun and kicks the next door open, “just a woman…”

11

Ada walks through the halls of Ivy University with her mind set on one thing: her destination. A quick change of outfit has allowed her to blend in with the bustling crowds as a reporter for some nondescript local news station in a state far away from here. There are B.S.A.A. and Secret Service checkpoints all over the campus, which is hindering her timeframe to the point of aggravation. You would think after a while they would just accept her presence, but alas, it is the President after all.

A gruff man wearing the B.S.A.A. standard attire glares at the Asian woman and holds out his hand, “Press pass, ma’am.”

“Yeah, just like the last seven checkpoints,” the badge is pulled from under her jacket and scanned by the lone Agent, “but at least you are the cutest so far,” her wink is lost on him as she is waved on to the large banquet room.

Banners, balloons, and the famous colors of the American Flag fill the room before her as people work to fill tarps with confetti before strapping the bundles to the ceiling. A small breeze creeps through the hall, bringing with it the scents and smells of the chefs in the kitchen working on designing the feast that will be enjoyed here in a few hours’ time. The random conversations that permeate the air mean nothing to Ada as she slips through the crowded aisles between tables. Her target comes into view, an older man who is currently pointing at a ladder and talking to a younger woman, possibly his daughter, who promptly stomps her foot and storms out of the room.

_Target has the elevator keycard I need to access the parking garage that’ll get me to the soccer field where Bendford is going to give his speech._

Ada prepares to swipe the keycard when suddenly she is stopped in her tracks by a woman with shoulder-length brown hair wearing slacks and a vest over her dress shirt, _Secret Service… Helena Harper, if I had to venture a guess from the butch-like clothing choices._

“Carla Radames?” right, that’s the name on her press badge, time to play the part.

Ada quickly flips the page on her notepad from notes on the security and possible exits and starts writing as she looks up and smiles at the Agent before her, “Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but the press isn’t allowed in here just yet. Security measures and all that, am sure you understand,” from the tone in her voice, Ada really wants to lay money on the lesbian card, but holds off on it for now.

The spy nods politely and smiles before replying with, “I’d give you the ‘people have the right to the truth’ speech, but I think the public would be bored to see how cheap the decorations look. I’ll see myself out…” she points toward a door, “this way?” the frown makes her hand raise up and point at the stairs, “That way, got it.”

As she turns from Helena and the man with the keycard she needs, Ada secretly starts planning another route to get that keycard. If she can’t get the keycard from him, maybe she can wait for him to use it and sneak into the elevator with him.

“Excuse us, ma’am, we need to get through with these tables,” three men step past her as she spins to her left, watching them unlock a door that opens up to a straight shot to the field it looks like.

It can’t be this easy, “Here, let me get the door for you fine gentlemen…” Ada exchanges a couple of sultry looks with the workers as they pass by.

A quick look left, a quick look right, and suddenly Ada is outside staring at the field where the bomb needs to be planted. They want the bomb placed for maximum infection, but there’s only one position this bomb needs to be placed at: his podium. Attaching it to a centrally-mounted speaker in the crowd might be the most efficient way to eliminate witnesses or cross off names, but Ada knows deep down that the man truly behind this recent task has hired her to make it personal.

“Excuse me! Are you one of the communications techs?” the man with blonde hair pulled in a ponytail stops, shifts his glasses down his nose to inspect her, and huffs before nodding.

He readjusts the roll of speaker wire on his shoulder, “Yes ma’am, how can I help?”

“Secret Service is becoming a right pain in my ass, they want another check of the podium before people start filing in, mind if I just take care of that since you look so busy?”

“Whatever needs to be done to keep Agent Harper off my case, feel free to go ahead… This shit’s heavy as hell…” he quickly makes his way to the tent with the rest of the equipment as Ada’s eyes flash.

_These people are completely fucking incompetent, holy shit it’s like Cranston Reed picked them all himself_ , there is a surprising amount of electronic equipment hidden within the Presidential Podium that she can connect this viral payload to, but there is something that really grabs her attention.

Connected between the monitor built into the podium and the small computer apparently loaded up with his speech, is quite possibly the single crudest explosive device she’s ever seen, “Fucking amateurs…”

There is a flash in her mind and she slips a small toolkit from one of the pockets of her jacket. Deft fingers slowly open the explosive and she quickly wires her device to it. This will require her to cut the explosion in half, but it’s going to propel the virus so much faster than they ever could have dreamed when they assigned her to this.

_This might be my best work ever…_

11

Sherry watches as Jill steps into their hideout with several bags and a few boxes in her arms, “Good trip I take it?”

“Well,” Jill kicks the door shut behind her and drops some of the purchase onto the couch before turning back to the blonde, “I had one outfit in mind for Claire when I went out, but you won’t believe what happens when you walk into a store and actually see what’s on offer.”

Chris continues cleaning two handguns, but does afford a second for a witty remark, “And here I thought you were just one of the guys…”

“Fuck up my weapon and I’ll show you just how much I am like one of the guys…”

“Love you too, Jill,” he smirks as the two women join his sister in the other room.

Claire is sitting on the edge of the bed looking over a massive pile of makeup as Jill and Sherry enter, “What’s the difference between Ruby Red and Rebellious Ruby?”

Sherry giggles as Jill sighs, “Nothing really, just the longer name gives them a reason to charge you twenty cents more… I got you a few outfit options for tonight.”

Claire watches as one particular dress is pulled up, “Is that little fabric actually legal?”

Miss Valentine laughs at the response and nods, “I figured that would be a no, but you have to admit it does raise some eyebrows… I also have this.”

“It can’t be any more eyebrow-raising than the previous…” the younger Redfield finds herself speechless at the garment resting in her friend’s arms.

“You have my attention if you bought heels to match it…” she almost giggles as Jill tosses a pair of green heels at her.

Claire slips them onto her feet, looks down at them, and takes the dress from Jill with a demand of, “Think of a hairstyle to go with this outfit! I’m going to try this on!”

The elder of the two women just smiles as Claire vanishes into the bathroom with a slam of the door, “You know something, Chris? You shouldn’t doubt just how classy a tomboy can be… Even a woman who is just ‘one of the guys’ likes to feel pretty once in a while…”

She prays he gets the hint, but in typical Chris fashion, “Want me to bedazzle your holster?”

Sadly, he’s not wrong, bedazzling her holster would help; she’ll never tell him though.

11

Leon drops another empty magazine to the ground before slamming another one into his magnum as another of the brackish creatures explodes from the last shot he fired, “I guess they weren’t kidding…”

“I don’t even want to ask,” Josh stomps on the head of another creature, “but I know you are going to say this ridiculous pun anyway…”

“I guess there are plenty of fish in the sea,” the older of the two B.S.A.A. Agents smiles wide as Josh groans heavily.

Another creature erupts from a tank of chemicals, screeching like a banshee before making a mad dash to the two Agents. Leon spins around quickly, slamming the heel of his right foot into the face of the monster as Josh drops two rounds into the legs to knock it off balance. Blood coats the floor as the creature drops to the ground, headless.

“Still holding to the relief that these things just die when the head gets removed…” Leon picks up the empty magazine and slips it into a slot on the back of his belt.

The West African Agent refills a magazine before returning it to his pouch, “You’ll need to tell me just what you saw in Spain, Kennedy. I’m really curious about the kind of monsters that are out in the world.”

Charles steps up and tilts his head toward a door, “I don’t know exactly why you need it, but this is going to be the only hard-lined computer in the facility.”

“Director’s office, fancy…” Leon leans in and reads the name on the door, which takes him only slightly by surprise, “Cranston Reed… Mother fucker.”

“He is the Director of the B.S.A.A. and finances bioterror?” Josh steps up to open the door, “Someone likes to have their hands in both cookie jars…”

Leon scowls and kicks the door open, “Let’s just find the computer I’m looking for and then we can torch this place to the-“ he stops, closes his eyes slowly, and sighs before, “bottom of the water-filled lake… Damn it I should think before I drop quips like that…”

Leon drops into the leather chair, stares at the B.S.A.A. emblem spinning on the screen of the computer, and slams a finger onto the mouse, waking the terminal up, “Any idea what his password is?”

Josh turns towards the older man and smirks, “What? Haven’t you tried ‘KennedyisUgly87’?”

“Got in,” he peers over the monitor and smiles, “CalicoL0ve14, believe it or not.”

Charles leans against the door and chuckles, “Man, you really don’t know someone…”

Private tab, email server, login, and a new email from KennedyFan01, interesting, _Hey, Leon. Sitting here missing you after our brief time together. Are we ever going to take that second train ride? God I feel like such a girl you know? If trains aren’t your thing, we can go jet-skiing. Or diving… It doesn’t matter to me what we do, as long as I get to see you again. Things are going well here, it’s a busy time, people everywhere, but my brother is planning a stop at the largest oak tree forest in the country, joy… Well, take care Leon and I hope you still have hope and light… Love, C._

_Claire…_ his heart skips a beat at the message; she found a way to reach him, with a bit of info too.

“Find what you are looking for?” Charles steps up toward him, but he is held back by Josh.

Leon stands up from the desk, deletes the email, purges the history, and for good measure, he wipes his bloody feet on the soft leather of Cranston’s personal chair, “We need to get to Tall Oaks as soon as possible. Any way we can make that happen?”

“Are you kidding?” Charles has the most deadpan expression on his face, “Yeah, we’ll just go down to the lowest level, find the executive hangar with the sub that will take us to the surface, turn into a plane, and take off.”

Josh chuckles at this, but gasps as Leon asks, “So, that’s a no?”

The older man nods slowly, “Yeah, that’d be a no…” his eyes flash, “Although, we can get to the surface, take a boat to one of the tourist ports on the lake. One of them is bound to have a seaplane.”

Leon’s eyes flash as he runs some numbers, “That seaplane would get us over the mountains and near Tall Oaks in about four hours, right?”

Charles nods, taken off-guard again as the once-captured agent steps up to him, “Get us to the surface. Josh, work on downloading everything on his computer. Everything, especially what’s in the recycle bin.”

“On it,” Josh leans under the desk, pries the cover off the side of the computer, and pulls the hard drive out, “finished the download. Do we have a plan to get out of here yet?”

Charles works with his laptop and nods appropriately, “Freight elevator two floors up should get us near the surface.”

“What in the hell do you mean by ‘near the surface’?”

The next sentence makes Leon wish they would’ve just killed him, “Supplies are dropped at a very specific point in the lake, sinks down, lands on top of the elevator shaft, and then it opens up, lowers down, and drains the water.”

**END**


	7. Crimson Waltz

“T-minus seven hours until I drop a round into some asshole who puts his hand on you the wrong way,” Chris resumes his position at the bipod, keeping tabs on security movements around the campus.

Claire smirks and drops hard into the folding chair, causing it to creak a bit as she settles into it, “One shot, one blown cover, big brother. Do be nice to the handsy old men, please?”

“I make,” he takes a long drag of the cigarette in his lips before releasing the cloud of smoke, “no promises, Claire.”

Sherry appears between the pair and looks across the city, “I’m pretty sure I’ve been there before,” they follow her outstretched finger as it points toward the University.

“Maybe we should have Sherry here go down there,” Chris cringes at the glare his sister tosses his way, but dismisses it with a lighthearted chuckle.

Claire, “Yeah, we do that, the only thing that’ll come back is Sherry and a truckload of wallets and watches.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sherry slips back to the chair she was sitting in as Claire stares at her, unsure of what to say.

Chris knows exactly what to say of course, “You asked for that…”

Claire drops down next to Chris, resting her head against the concrete half-wall her brother has the bipod attached to, smiling as he drops a hand onto her head and ruffles her hair. It’s a light moment they need, some normalcy in a life nearly devoid of it lately. Chris looks back at Sherry, offers her a small smile before he stands, dusts off his pants, and heads in to find Jill.

“Wait,” Claire blinks twice before locking gazes with the younger woman, “you said you’ve been to the University before?”

“Mmhmm,” the redhead sighs heavily and holds up a chocolate bar, knowing this is going to make her talk, “yeah, it was a couple years ago. They brought me to a lab, took some samples, handed a vial or two over to some people, and then it was back in the cage.”

Claire continues to be stunned at how nonchalantly Sherry talks about her time in captivity, “If we showed you some pictures, would you be able to see if they were the men the vials were given to?”

“Yup,” she swipes the chocolate smear from her lips and nods.

11

“Anyone ever swim to the surface from the freight elevator?” Leon smirks as the head crunches nicely underfoot.

Charles turns back to the Agent and frowns, “Again, that’s a no. You are more than welcome to be the first to try, though I don’t think you’ll last long in the freezing water.”

Josh fires into another of the creatures before throwing a kick back to stop one trying to sneak up behind him, “Just how many people were held captive here? The monsters seem to be nearly limitless…”

“We held,” Charles fires his own weapon into the monstrosity born of the virus from the deep, “a lot of POWs here. I don’t know the exact number, but we have been at war for a really long time…”

Leon stops and places a hand on Charles’ chest, “Are you saying the monsters here are former scientists from the war on bioterror?”

“Those, among others… Scientists, soldiers, people who use, sell, and buy biological weapons… There are even a few samples here,” his words do nothing but piss off the man with the hand to his chest.

“Samples?” the fire in Leon’s eyes tells Charles he needs to choose his words carefully, but he stoutly refuses to.

“Those who bought and used biological weapons felt the need to experiment. Whatever viable samples the B.S.A.A. teams encountered were secured and brought here.”

Josh has to step in before that hand to the chest turns into a fist to the face as Leon’s rage is thicker in the air than the stagnant blood seeping from the monsters attacking them, “Not now, Leon. We do still need him…”

Charles steps back from the hand and straightens the tie around his neck, “What do you plan to do to me after we find a way out of here?”

“The same thing I’ll do to you if you don’t tell me exactly how we are getting out of here,” Josh steps toward the older man, sharing just a bit of Leon’s anger and disgust.

Charles pulls up his firearm and pops the head off one of the fishy mutants encroaching on their small bit of personal space, “I must remind you, Agent Stone, that torture for information never works…”

“You ever been tortured?” Leon slowly walks past the defiant man, who looks at him confused, “That a no? If you had been tortured and were still saying that,” he turns to glare straight into Charles’ soul, “you haven’t been subject to the right kind of torture…”

11

Jill slowly sits down on the edge of the worn mattress, her eyes reflecting back at her through the cracked and tarnished mirror, “It’s just like the couple of years after Raccoon City, hiding, from everything and everyone… Fighting in the shadows. Wasn’t the B.S.A.A. supposed to be our way of stepping back out into the light, Chris?”

The target of her question sighs and nods, running one hand through his hair before grimacing at how tacky it feels, “Yeah… It was nice while it lasted, I do miss a hot shower.”

“Oh please,” she laughs, snapping his attention to her brightened face, “you were just as scared of the bathroom as I was after the Mansion Incident…”

“That fucking hunter came out of nowhere! You’d piss yourself in fear too if it happened to you,” his retort starts off defiant, but ends up just sounding like a chastised kid.

Jill places a hand to her chest as the laugh dies down, “I’m pretty sure I was two steps away from needing a change of underwear myself when that zombie erupted from the filled tub.”

“How many jump scares did we suffer as breaks between the real scares?” Chris steps over to the sink and turns the water on with the intent of doing… something to his hair.

“Remember the first time one of the newbies encountered a Hunter in Russia?” when her partner nods in agreement, Jill smiles and quips, “That made me decide to never wear winter camo again. _Everyone_ knew he crapped himself. Poor thing.”

She watches as the man who holds her heart starts washing his hair with what has to be some of the coldest water ever with a somewhat misplaced sense of peace. There haven’t been many of these moments as far as she can remember, but when it feels like it’s just Chris and her against the world, that’s when this feeling likes to creep up on her. It took years for either of them to really say those three little words, but deep down they always knew their feelings for each other. It was hot and heavy before the Mansion, it was hidden and rolling after Raccoon, and it exploded again after they formed the B.S.A.A. and found a sense of normal neither of them have tasted since Umbrella cast a shadow over their lives.

“Valentine,” she shakes her head to clear the daydream before laughing at how Chris has somehow gotten his shirt tangled around the faucet, “stop laughing and help me before I tear this shirt…”

His concern for the shirt, as she gazes at it, is well-placed, as it’s one of the first pieces of clothing she ever bought him. Amazed that it’s lasted all these years, even more amazed at Chris’s ability to not nuke everything he touches, Jill sighs and twists the article of clothing from the faucet and frees her man from the evil spout. He thanks her with one of his trademark grins and the two of them share a profound silence.

Of course, though, Chris has to break it, “If we can’t convince President Benford to help us…”

“I know, Chris,” she rests her head against his left arm. “If he’s as crooked as Reed, we’ve done all this work for nothing. We’ve gone against worse odds than this, up against bigger targets than this, that I have no doubt we’ll be triumphant.”

“Umbrella,” he clenches both hands around the edge of the sink, “they were so big that they could control entire governments, Jill. We never got them all, the executives and their cronies, so what if they have traded a red and white nametag for one that’s red-white-and-blue? I have this feeling, even though we are targeting the highest official in the United States Government, that our true enemy is still that god-damned Umbrella?”

Another silence, this one loaded for bear, but Jill decides to pull the trigger anyway, “If some remnant of Umbrella is behind the scenes pulling the strings, tripping the levers, we’ll do what we always do, Chris: destroy them or die trying.”

Chris looks at their shared reflection in the tarnished mirror, “I hope it doesn’t come to the latter…”

11

“This man?” Claire frowns as Sherry shakes her head.

Another picture is pulled up, “This man?”

Negative response from the blonde, “Okay then, how about this one?”

“Oh yeah, that one I know. He visited a lot after the man with the ring said he was ‘done’ with me. He was a bit of a dick though, would never bring me any candy or chocolate,” the redhead frowns at the picture in her hands.

“Cranston Reed, figures that scumbag would be involved in your ‘pleasant’ life after Raccoon City…” she leans back toward the open door and calls out, “Chris, Sherry just gave me another reason to castrate Cranston Reed!”

“That’s nice Claire-bear,” she throws a middle finger up at her brother before returning her attention to the blonde girl.

“So if you know Cranston, let’s see who from his inner circle you kn-“ she gasps as Sherry almost jumps on one of the photos, Derek Simmons, the National Security Advisor.

Her reaction grabbed Claire’s attention, but the look of uncontrolled fear is what nearly breaks her heart, “This man, he’s the one with the ring… He was one of the worst, especially once they discovered how the virus bonded with me. Once they discovered that secret, I became nothing more than a petri-dish for him… They were talking about something Graham? Mad about it being covered up or something.”

Sherry’s eyes are closed, the lids trembling, but Claire knows just how to get the girl out of her own fear, “Remember when we were walking out of the train tunnel? Leon was so focused on keeping you safe that he tripped over the railing and almost smashed his face off this rock? What did you say, I can’t remember?”

“The rock looked like Mr. Potato-Head so I was scared he was going to crush him! I said,” the girl tries to hold back a giggle, “No, Leon! Don’t mash Mister Potato-Head!”

The two women share a good laugh at this, Claire loving that stupid memories of Leon cheer her up just as much as the redhead, _Leon, wherever you are, please be safe…_

11

“No way,” Leon pushes past the other two men and quickly approaches the table, “it can’t be…”

Josh fires a shot into the last Abyssal and follows the man’s path, “What?”

The Agent smiles wide and picks up the little bundle before turning to his partner and chuckles, “It’s a damn Mr. Potato-Head. Last time I saw one of these, I was a kid…”

Something sticks out in his mind, “Actually, I got a pretty funny story from Raccoon City.”

“I thought you being in Raccoon was just a rumor to explain your skills…” both Josh and Leon turn to look at Charles, “What? I had my money on you being genetically-modified. Science and all that.”

“I’m going to shoot him,” Josh stops Leon from raising his gun, “fucking ass…”

Leon stares at the older man behind rage-tinted vision and growls, but Josh quells the anger by pointing toward the door on the far side of the room, “That is the passageway to the freight elevator… Are you sure about this?”

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to get back to her,” another glare in Charles’ direction, “no matter the cost…”

Charles enters a number into the keypad and steps aside as the door slides open, revealing a short walkway leading to a rather large and impressive freight elevator, “Another few minutes and we will be closer to the surface than you’ve been in several hours…”

As the pair moves past him into the elevator, Leon reaches quickly and takes both Charles’ laptop and the Sonic Weapon, “We’ll be going it alone from here, thank you.”

“I wasn’t planning on going, anyway, take care, gentlemen,” the door slams shut behind them, leaving Josh a little confused as to why he stayed behind.

“Did I miss something?” the confusion is not abated as Leon shrugs.

The older of the two hefts the cannon onto his shoulder and quickly hustles onto the platform and toward the control panel, “Guess he thinks he’s going to be the next coming of Albert Wesker with all the data and samples down here… May Leviathan Station become the tomb he hopes it to be.”

Something shimmers off to the left, proving his hunch right, “Eight o’clock. I need you to draw it out, Josh. Don’t worry, I’m a pretty good shot.”

“That fills me with confidence…” Josh holds his weapon up and slowly moves toward the shimmering form, “Would do more to boost my confidence if Chris Redfield said it.”

Leon does his best to not take that personally as he raises the cannon in his arms and quickly works to get it charging as Josh cautiously eyes the shimmering blob on the wall, “Should I start the elevator?”

That’s a fair question, with the weapon being lowered and the laptop brought up, Leon works to find the answer, “Ah, we start the elevator, we have ten minutes to kill this thing. We can’t let it get out, Josh.”

“Well, start the timer,” Agent Stone’s left hand snakes around the lever and it’s pulled down, the entire platform lurching before slowly beginning its ascent.

Leon frowns as the shimmering form of their target vanishes for a brief second, only to reappear between the two men. One of the overhead lights of the platform fluctuates before exploding, showering the trio in bright light before sparks rain down, giving Leon a better look at the creature once again. Dark and translucent skin, a mass of tentacles blankets it like a cloak, but it’s the fine mist around the creature that draws his attention. Charles was right, this creature is emitting something that’s messing with their minds, causing it to shift and vanish without actually doing either.

“We are going to need to remain calm,” Leon says, but he fires blindly as the creature roars and charges straight at him, tentacles reaching over its body and toward him like the fingers of a large hand.

**END**


	8. Mistaken Realities

Jill smiles as one of Chris’s spare email accounts actually has a new message, “Chris, you are going to want to see this… Rico just reached out.”

Chris is at her side in a second, his large hand clicking the pad and opening the message, “Not much help coming. Target’s sniffing around. Including list of possibly helpful associates. Good luck with the puzzle.”

Puzzle, of course, the names are scrambled, all three of them, “That’s a… Thorough list, isn’t it?”

“Josh Stone, Rico Piker, oh, looks like DeChant survived his ordeal in China,” Chris stares down at the brunette between his arms, “What? I’m good with puzzles, remember?”

Josh Stone, he’s from the West African Branch, recently redeployed to the North American Alpha Squad after the Kijuju Incident, “All of these people, every single one of them, Reed is going to keep them all close. Anyone who so much as even shared a seat with us at the mess hall is going to be watched…”

It's not a dead end, but it is a dying one, and as always, Jill has the answer, “If we were to put them between you and Reed, who do you honestly think they’d choose?”

Chris knows they would all choose him, but the new question is how to put the entire B.S.A.A. in that position? It would need to be something significant enough to drag Reed out of his shell… It can’t be that simple, can it? His eyes turn from the list, taking his whole head with them and they lock on the distant landscape of Ivy University.

“If Reed and Benford are such good friends, he’d show up to this event, right?” Jill follows his gaze and nods slowly, picking up his forming plan like she can read his mind.

She types on the laptop and pulls up an overhead view of the school, “So, planning on showing up to the event after all?”

Chris nods, grunting an affirmative response that is cut off as Jill walks past him, reaches into the broken closet, and pulls out a dress, placing it along her silhouette and nodding positively, “Good thing I picked up a couple extras.”

_Woman, you are something else…_

11

“ _You are coming to this, right? This is a commencement speech, but it’s also honoring those who fight bioterrorism_ ,” Reed sighs into the phone, preparing some form of excuse, knowing full-well that Adam isn’t going to believe him.

The Director of the B.S.A.A. walks around his desk toward the large window overlooking downtown D.C. and sighs again, “I’m sorry, Adam. I would love to attend, but you know what we are dealing with now. The documentation from the prisoner transfer hasn’t been sent back to me yet so I have a team on their way to verify it was completed. I also have to prepare for the incoming Director and get ready for my promotion. If it had been at any other time, I’d be there, you know that.”

“ _Very well_ ,” that was easier than he expected, “ _just figured I’d try one more time to convince you. Take care and have a good night, Cranston_.”

“You too, Adam, good night,” the phone is closed and slid back into the breast pocket of his shirt, leaving him to his thoughts of what is to come.

The spy will deliver, her handler promised him just as much, but part of him is still worried, “ _Call for you sir, on your personal line._ ”

_Speak of the devil and he shall appear,_ the receiver is brought up to his ear and the button for his personal line is pressed, “Reed.”

“ _You might want to take a look at the email coming through right now. Follow it,_ ” it’s Ada’s handler, what is he going on about?

The announced email is opened, Reed’s eyes going wide as the phone is dropped from his grip, “It can’t be… Why are they there? Adam… They’re going after Adam…”

The email before him is of a single picture, one that shows Chris Redfield perched on a balcony with a pair of binoculars, the coordinates on the bottom of the picture reading as Tall Oaks. All this time he’s been searching for them and they’ve been playing him for a fool as they move closer to one of the only people who can unravel this thing. What the hell can he do? What can he actually do to stop them?

“Are you still there?” the phone is picked up and Reed patiently awaits an answer from the silent call.

The seconds seem near endless, “ _Yes._ ”

“The timetable needs to move up. I want it done before the speech,” he can’t help the fear that crosses his voice.

There is another beat of silence before the man on the other end speaks again, “ _Very well. I do this because it doesn’t interfere with my plans, not because you have asked. Do remember which one of us is the puppet and which is the puppeteer my dear Director…_ ”

“Christ,” Reed lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as the line clicks and goes dead.

His fingers move on their own to his cellphone, a number is dialed, and it rests against his ear, “Get the jet ready, I need to get to Tall Oaks. Mobilize whatever B.S.A.A. forces are there.”

“ _On it, sir. May I ask why?_ ” curious little soldier, but he obliges.

Cranston Reed turns toward the window once more, staring at the White House off in the distance, “Redfield has been spotted in Tall Oaks, Pike. Load whoever we have here onto the jet as well, I want them all taken down.”

“ _Very well, sir. Orders delivered._ ”

11

“The fuck!?” Leon drops down to his stomach as the monster swings overhead, screeching again.

It morphs shape once more, larger than before, but they both know where its real body rests within the form. Josh pushes from the panel it slammed him into and fires several rounds into the form, smiling as blood drips to the ground, black and thick with decay. The sonic cannon beeps with a ready charge, dragging Leon’s attention back into the fight and off the fear crawling along his spine.

Josh slips another magazine into the weapon and fires again, drawing the monster’s attention away from the blonde Agent, “How much lead can you eat before you sink like a lead balloon!?”

Leon stands up, the cannon aimed toward the beast, “Jokes are my thing… Game over, pal.”

The trigger is squeezed, a nearly invisible wave of energy blasting from the barrel of the weapon. The wave careens into the misshapen form, forcing an inaudible shriek to fill the air. The lights begin to wobble just as the body does before they shatter and the beast drops to the floor, shrinking faster the longer it writhes on the floor. The cannon itself beeps twice before releasing a large puff of smoke, signaling it needs a recharge. Josh and Leon both step up to the beast, their weapons trained on its body, and quickly drain both weapons into the monstrosity. Thick gelatinous blood spews into the air, covering both men as the beast writhes in pain and death.

As the monster finally finishes its death throes, the platform comes to a stop at the top of the shaft, where water slowly drips between the two plates separating them from the cold water above, “So what next, Leon?” Leon watches as Josh empties the ammo bag, slips the laptop and the hard drive into it, and offers a silent prayer that it’s waterproof enough to protect the devices.

Josh will never know that the only thing driving Leon forward, past the injuries, past the pain, is a single image of a redhead, Claire, even as he reaches out to the button encased in glass, “It’ll take a few minutes for the shaft to fill with water. Once it does, we’re going to only have a minute to make it to the surface before we freeze to death.”

_I’m coming for you, Redfield_ , he flips the case open and jams his thumb into the button, an alarm going off almost immediately.

The doors overhead split open, water immediately rushing in, but what shocks Leon the most isn’t how cold the water is, or how fast it’s rushing in, _There’s no light… Just how deep are we, really?_

11

“I’m going to state one more time how much I don’t like this, Claire,” Chris crosses his arms as his sister goes about trying to get as ready as she can in a place that barely has lukewarm water.

Jill smirks at her guy as he continues to try to be protective of his little sister, “I can do this, Chris. You don’t need to worry about me this much. They are used to me being a tomboy-ish brunette, with Jill’s help, I’ll be a bombshell redhead, they won’t recognize me and they certainly won’t see what’s coming until it’s too late.”

She turns to wink at her brother, but she suddenly remembers he is the one man, rightly so, that wink doesn’t work on, “Jill should go in with you for backup.”

“Seriously,” Claire turns to the taller woman, “I mean no disrespect, Jill, but anyone working for or with the B.S.A.A. is going to recognize those curves a mile away.”

The brunette laughs and nods at Chris, “She’s right. As much as we hate this, she is the only option. We could probably send Sherry in, if you’d like.”

Chris pushes off the wall and walks away grumbling something that sounds a bit like, “What I’d like to do is go in there and punch their heads off…”

“Well, now that he’s gone,” Jill claps her hands together and steps toward the redhead, pushing her down onto the edge of the bed with one hand, “we only have a few hours until the event starts, so let us find out what colors go good on you.”

The small bag of makeup Jill had the blonde ‘procure’ is dropped next to Claire’s knees, Jill’s eyes sparkling a little as she says, “I got to say, she’s got taste for a woman that matured in captivity…”

“How does this end, Jill?” the question catches the former member of S.T.A.R.S. off-guard for a second.

Two pairs of blue-eyes lock, Jill trying to find out exactly which question she’s asking, “I don’t know. There are so many variables in play right now that I can’t even begin to figure out where the next hour or the next fifteen minutes will go.”

A nod from the younger woman, “Honesty doesn’t do a lot to garner hope, you know that?”

“You are so full of hope, Claire… One of us has to be, right? You have so much hope that you made Chris believe that Leon is still alive. And if any one of us has a reason to not want him to be alive,” she leans in close, “it’s your brother.”

The two women share a laugh as Jill starts applying the beginning stages of makeup to the younger’s face. As the layers are built up, judged, removed, and applied again, Jill can’t help but think about hope, disaster, rebuilding, and fate. Are they even allowed to have it all, doing what they do? Leon and Claire found each other, went for Sherry, and Claire ended up being forced to trade Leon for Sherry. The group itself traded Leon for Sherry, which Jill can’t help but amusingly debate in her head if losing him for Sherry was really a downgrade. The thought is tossed aside as she twists the lipstick open. These feelings that there are costs involved in what they do are why Chris and Jill never went further than they have. The risk is too great, why raise a child in a world of monsters? The two of them spend every day thinking it might just be their last, so how can they expect a child to live like that?

Claire notices Jill absentmindedly rub her stomach, “Thinking about having a few boulder-punching kids? You could do worse…”

“Once the world is safe, Claire,” another pass of her hand over the empty stomach, “once the world is safe…”

“The world is as big or small as you make it, Jill. If you have a child, will that child not be your whole world? Isn’t Chris, right now, your whole world?” Jill partially hates how right she is, but appreciates that infectious amount of hope she keeps pouring out to the world.

Even as her own world seems to be crumbling around her, Claire still manages to inspire hope in others, faith that the world will balance itself and possibly reward their hard labor with gifts both material and beyond. She nods lightly at the redhead, smiling wide as tears sting the edges of her eyes but never fall. Jill picks up the lipstick again and reaches for Claire’s face, finding herself filling with light and hope.

11

Ada smiles wide as she eyes Adam from across the room, his Secret Service detail working wonders keeping track of everyone but herself. He’s practicing his speech, getting the oration right for all the guests soon to be sitting in the chairs between them. Her phone beeps, drawing her attention to the flashing name.

“I thought we were dark once I retrieved the package,” her voice is silken, practiced, and wasted on the man on the other end.

A deep breath before his deeper voice fills her head, “ _Timetable has moved up three hours. It needs to be done before the speech. I hope this will not be an issue._ ”

Of course it’s an issue, but he wasn’t really asking that, “It’ll be done. Will my extraction be moved up as well to accommodate?”

“ _I’ll be there myself to personally oversee your extraction_ ,” that’s a new one, as he has never put himself out in the open like this before.

The phone beeps and she slips it back into the pouch at her side. This is absolutely going to be a major pain in her side, as now she’s going to have to wait for President Adam Benford to leave the pedestal so she can adjust the device to no longer detonate when a certain phrase is spoken. Ada’s eyes scan the crowd, not really to keep tabs on who is where, but to avoid the pointed glare from Agent Harper. Another beep of her phone, this one a message that grabs her attention faster than his name on the screen.

_If Agent Harper becomes a problem, use this_ , an attachment with the message.

The video is shocking, even without the audio, and Ada quickly closes it before she has a thought, _I really hope I don’t need to use this…_

There, Adam is slowly escorted off the podium and into the office they have him staying in before the ceremonies begin. The woman in red slowly saunters toward the pedestal, intent on finishing her objective and getting out of this town, something about it truly unsettles her, something about Tall Oaks reminds her of Raccoon City.

“I thought I told you this area was off-limits to the Press, Miss Radames,” mere feet from her goal, son of a bitch.

Rage flashes on Ada’s face before she turns to face Agent Harper, her phone resting in her left hand as she smiles brightly, “Blame some of the nice gentlemen who needed help with the door… I was holding it open and then the next thing I knew it closed behind me. I’ll take my leave, then, if you don’t mind.”

A firm hand on her arm, “I think I’ll hold you until the guests start to arrive… We have things we need to discuss.”

“That we do,” Ada holds the video up to Helena’s face, who frowns and gasps in shock, “Agent Harper…”

11

Leon and Josh hold on to the railing for dear life as the water continues to cascade in, it’s already been three minutes and the water is finally starting to lap at his ankles. Josh tries to yell something out to him, but the words are lost to him through the cacophony of waves and splashing. He fights against his teeth chattering from the chill of the water, thoughts of Claire keeping him standing, and he braces for the water to finally cover his chest and head.

“One deep breath, Josh! ONE! TWO! THREE!” he’s not sure his partner could hear him, but Leon inhales as much air as possible into his lungs and prepares to kick off the platform.

The water rushes over his head, almost popping his eardrums from the pressure, but he quickly recovers and pushes off, arms flipping to propel him forward as his feet kick. No time to make sure Josh is following him as the freezing temperature of the water threatens to steal the oxygen from his lungs. Push harder, swim faster, and hope like hell he sees light start breaking through the dark liquid around him.

_Claire, I’m on my way…_ his hands grab more, his feet kick more, and his body propels through the water faster.

Each thought of the redhead propels him closer to the surface and right as the first pang of pain in his chest starts, a single beam of light cuts down from the surface above him. More kicks, more cutting through the water, and Leon forces his throat to swallow to keep what little oxygen he has left down in his lungs. Closer, closer, Leon forces his body to comply to what he needs as the light ahead grows in intensity.

His head finally breaks the surface with a mighty gulp of the frigid and fresh air, “HOLY SHIT!”

A couple seconds later, Josh appears near him, gasping for breath harder than Leon was, “You are the craziest man I’ve ever met, Leon… Absolutely the craziest…”

“It’s a gift,” he tries to land the joke, but it’s lost to their lowering body temperatures, prompting Leon to follow Josh toward the string of shacks and huts at the closest edge of the lake.

_There better be a plane here…_

**END**


	9. Accidents With Purpose

The jet currently taxiing onto the runway is a welcome sight to the anxious form of Cranston Reed quickly making his way across the tarmac. A dozen of the B.S.A.A.’s best soldiers left at the main compound are gathered around a small supply cache that is loaded by three of the men as soon as the jet comes to a halt. The rest salute their Director, who succinctly returns it and climbs up the ladder and into the transport.

His jet is one of the best in the Federal Fleet, only beaten out by Air Force One and Air Force Two, but none of that matters as he drops into his seat and awaits the squad’s commander, “Rico? What are you doing here?”

“You wanted the best, I got you the best,” Pike drops into the opposing chair and rests his rifle against the window, “we’re going after Redfield, right? He escaped me the last time I had him in my sights, I’m not going to let it happen again.”

“Good to hear,” Cranston smirks and pours a drink for both of them, offering Rico the glass with a nod, “I have a question before we get underway, though. Harmless.”

The drink isn’t taken up, a stern look on the other’s face telling Reed he won’t budge on the offer, “What do you want?”

“That night, your tracking system showed the B.S.A.A. asset under your control was stopped and turned off for little over a minute, why was this?” the air between the two men is frigid.

Reed smiles to disarm, but it doesn’t work, “Reed, you know we’ve had issues with the tracking software since our funding was reduced. I did not stop, I did not hesitate, and because I know what you are asking, I did not warn Chris Redfield. Question the men out there about who is more loyal to the B.S.A.A.”

The drink is slammed back, the empty glass turned upside down, and as Rico Pike starts to proceed to the front as his men file in, “We all know that Chris Redfield was the most loyal member of the B.S.A.A. and look how that turned out for us, Pike. Remember your place. Remember who is the puppet and who is the puppet master.”

“Strings to hang by, sir,” the cockpit door is closed, with several curious glances facing their Director.

_I hope he isn’t planning what I think he is. I need a group of soldiers that will fire on my command without question_ , Reed sighs heavily and grips the armrest to his left as the jet lurches forward and begins takeoff.

A little over four hours until they arrive in Denver, and then another half hour drive to Tall Oaks, which means five hours until the pains in his ass are dead and barely even footnotes to the history he is making. Anything that is going to stand in his way must be eliminated: His friends, his coworkers, even the people closest to him if fate deems it so. As the jet leaves the runway, Cranston looks down at his phone, unsure why he’s so nervous about the device.

11

Claire steps out onto the street, her heels clicking loudly down the silent concrete street, her hair pulled back in a tight braid with a few strands left to frame her face, “TAXI!”

The yellow cab rolls up with a driver who looks closer to the disreputable side of things rolling down the window, “Where to, lady?”

“Ivy, as quick as you can,” she glances down at her watch, fifteen past four, “Get there before the half hour and I’ll double the fare.”

“Must be important,” he begins to pull away, his eyes glancing up to the rearview mirror more than she’s comfortable with.

Claire locks gazes with him, “It’s a matter of life and death.”

The vehicle picks up speed and she sighs heavily as his voice picks up again, “Oh, well that is important then. Must be, if something as pretty as you is heading to a party full of lecherous old men.”

“My eyes are up here,” she points a finger up to her face with her hand in front of her chest, “but more importantly,” she turns the finger to point toward the front of the car, “the road is that way. Better to be safe and polite than rude and dead, wouldn’t you agree?”

The driver clears his throat, pushes his eyes onto the road, and nods quickly, “Yes ma’am.”

A smirk crosses her colored lips as her ride remains quiet for the rest of the trip, the taxi pulling up in front of Ivy University with exactly one minute left to her suggested deadline. Claire holds to her word and doubles the fare, the cabbie smiling wide as the handful of bills are dropped into his eager hands. He speeds off, leaving the redhead staring in awe at the impressive collection of buildings before her. There is a pretty large crowd already gathered in front of her, the eager people standing in lines to get checked by security and the Secret Service before stepping up to a B.S.A.A. screening area.

_Shit, is that the new Genesis Scanner?_ The last Claire knew, Quint was still trying to get the software working with a TSA full-body x-ray scanner.

That machine is going to ruin her chances of getting in there, as it registers your DNA and checks it against, well, every database in the world. This, of course, includes the B.S.A.A. system that has all biohazard survivors, and their own employees, added to. One scan and she’s fucked, so what in the hell is she supposed to do now?

“Ma’am, you have your invitation and ID?” Claire slips a hand into her purse when a voice speaks up to her right.

“There will be no need for that at all, Jefferson, she’s a personal invite of the President,” a woman dressed up in an outfit Claire could probably see Leon wearing steps up and offers an arm to point her past the security detail.

_Red flags, Claire, these are all red flags_ , her mind is screaming at her to just turn tail and run, but a Redfield never gives up the hunt.

She takes the woman up on her offer and quickly makes her way through the crowd of skeptical on-lookers, a couple even throwing out a rumor that she’s the President’s personal call-girl. Claire scoffs at this, like she’d ever be that cheap, and once the pair of women are past the B.S.A.A. Genesis Checkpoint, Claire puts her foot down.

“Thanks, but why?” her blue eyes lock with the other’s brown, looking for answers behind what is going to be a lie.

“Agent Helena Harper, Secret Service,” she extends a hand that Claire refuses to take, which Helena just nods at, “fair enough. I was asked to escort you past security.”

More fucking red flags, she needs to get out of here right now, “Again, thanks, but who asked you to do this?”

“I couldn’t let another member of the Press be hounded like I was,” that voice, like the Ghost of Christmas Past, it seriously can’t be.

Short haircut, hair as black as her soul, and of course, some form of red adorning her body, “Yeah, I appreciate it. You are?”

It’s Ada Wong, she only saw her once in Raccoon City, running away after Leon was shot, but the stories he told her about the supposed spy made Claire never forget her, “Carla Radames. It’s a genuine pleasure.”

“Ugh, can I go now? I have an actual job to do…” Helena is promptly dismissed as Claire fights the urge to tear the other woman’s throat out.

Claire frowns, unable to contain her disdain as Ada, calling herself Carla, winks at her, “Risky move coming here, girl. Tell me, how bad does his shoulder hurt when it rains?”

“Like you actually give a fuck,” the redhead pulls the Asian woman in close, growling into her right ear, “you’re lucky I came by when I did. If he died there, I would’ve made sure you didn’t make it out of that lab.”

A smirk, one that nearly sets Claire’s blood on fire, “Leon thought he did the same when I fell off that walkway… As fun as reliving our greatest hits is, you’re welcome for getting you past the security that would’ve surely spoiled your fun.”

“Why though?” her hand has not let go of Ada’s upper arm.

The arm in her grasp is yanked hard to free the woman attached to it, “Because I’m curious what you will do here. I expect you are looking for a private meeting with Benford?”

“Don’t get in my way, Ada, I swear that’s a mistake you don’t want to make,” the raven-haired woman chuckles softly and saunters away, sliding one hand along a random man’s arm, grabbing his attention and clearly his escort through the event.

_Now what? A Secret Service Agent knows I don’t belong here, I have a spy possibly vying for the same information I am, and she’s got a LOT more experience with this game than I do…_ if it wouldn’t draw attention, Claire would kick the table next to her over.

A waiter slips past her with a tray of drinks, which she helps herself to, and Claire begins watching Ada work her way through the crowd, trying to pick up whatever tips she can. It makes her skin crawl to know she has to do this to survive here, but Ada pulled her into a viper’s nest. Another light touch, a casual laugh that means nothing, and Ada slips into the offered arm, nearly wrapping herself around the man like the snake she is.

Claire notices that Ada is slowly working her way toward the front of the crowd, _If she’s really after the President, I got to catch up…_

The glass is slammed back with skill that would make Chris proud and she slowly makes her way to the table offering more drinks. One man is fumbling with the drink in front of him, almost spilling it as Claire deftly reaches in and stops the glass from tipping over. She smiles at him as he takes the drink, winking as he nods politely at her.

“Excuse me,” Claire feels slighted as the man steps past her, ignoring her attempts to seduce him.

_Okay, that’s a fail. Maybe Jill should’ve been here instead of me_ , another man steps up, this one not slick in the least with his wandering eyes.

_Attempt number two,_ Claire steps up, leans more onto the table than she ever has in her life, hoping to God her back doesn’t pop, “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

“You don’t even know what I’m getting,” oh, it seems his eyes aren’t the only things that wander as one hand slips up her arm.

Claire smiles and leans closer to him, “Does it matter? You seem like a man with good taste.”

Her target winks at her and orders two of a drink that screams I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Alcohol, hands her one, and offers her his arm, “Gregory Pointess. Pleasure, Miss?”

_PANIC! THINK! NAME YOURSELF!_ “It’s a pleasure for me, as well, Gregory. My name is,” random name, come on, “Elza Walker.”

Her brain just decides to die on her and pick the name of her favorite motorcycle racer, “Well, I’m glad to see the name is as beautiful as the woman who carries it.”

Something snaps in Claire at Gregory’s attempts at flirting and whatever snapped, it makes her miss Leon immensely, “Keep those lines and these drinks coming, and you’ll see just how beautiful I can get. Do you teach here? With a last name like Pointess, I expect you to teach theology or something.”

“Oh, that’s very flattering of you, but I just work in the Accounting Department,” of course he does…

Ada probably picked someone who works directly under the President while Claire is stuck with a simple paper-pusher… _Leon, you are going to laugh your ass off at this story…_

11

Ada has yet to take one eye off of Claire as she fumbles her way through copying her moves, _Silly girl, I’ve been here for hours scouting the place and the people invited… Choose wisely._

There, the man she’s approaching now, he’s the head of the University’s Security Team, not a bad choice, except he’s completely uninterested in her. Too bad for her… Ada spins around her impromptu date, resting her eyes back on the redhead as she seems to have redoubled her efforts and chosen, Gregory Pointess of the Accounting Department. A smile crosses the spy’s lips as she watches the female Redfield crash and burn. Ada declares herself the winner as she continues absently nodding and laughing at something the man with his arm around her has said.

His face flashes in her eyes, _Kevin Ryman, current Director of the Department of Security Operations under President Benford, and someone who passingly reminds me of Leon._

Ada knows all about him, another survivor from Raccoon City, joined up with the Government in trade for immunity for fellow survivor Yoko Suzuki. Joined Adam Benford’s Administration the day he announced his plans to tackle bioterror around the world through the creation of a new department specifically designed to tackle Biohazard incidents alongside the B.S.A.A. Kevin has become a bit of the celebrity since that day, being known for throwing himself into the thick of it instead of ordering other people to face the nightmares. Ada would like to think it was pure luck that kept them from crossing paths before now, but she knows it was Wesker’s doing.

“So, ready to meet the man of the hour?” she thought he’d never ask and she’d have to prod him that way.

She bats her eyes at him and squeezes his arm, “Oh I don’t know… It’s so terrifying going from interviewing local cops all the way up to the President…”

“Don’t worry, babe,” she cringes a little and considers pulling out the knife hidden along her thigh, “he’s a teddy bear.”

Sixteen steps from the podium, time for a bit of acting, “Oh no!”

There is a small crack as Ada collapses near the podium, both hands wrapped around her ankle, “Carla! Are you okay?”

“Oh, oh I’m fine… The spike of my stiletto broke… Luckily I didn’t break my ankle… Can you do me a favor? I have a pair of flats in my bag at Security, can you get them for me?” she holds up the broken heel to prove her point, “I’d rather not get my stockings wet, you know?”

An awkward chuckle is all it takes and Kevin nods, _men,_ “Sure, be right back.”

As soon as her toy vanishes from view, Ada slides over to the podium, snips a wire from the device, slips it into her purse, and then tosses the broken heel to the side just in time for him to return, “Here you go, Carla.”

She expects him to just hand her the extra pair of shoes, but nope, Kevin picks her up in his arms and carries her over to a bench, which she would almost find flattering, if she could actually feel anything anymore. Ada thanks him and quickly trades the one remaining heel for the more comfortable flats. Once her footwear is addressed, she nods at Kevin, snakes her left arm through his bent elbow, and rests her head on his shoulder as the two slowly make their way into the dining hall.

Ada affords one look back at Claire, offers a wink, and smiles wide as the door closes, _Good luck!_

**END**


	10. Intermingled Fates

Chris stubs out the third cigarette of the night on the concrete wall in front of him, growling into the stock of the rifle in his hands, “God damn it, Claire, where are you?”

His partner sighs above him and slowly pushes the weapon to the left with her free hand, “There, trying her best to work her charms on some poor schmuck. I’ll keep an eye on her throughout this, Chris, you just shoot who I say to shoot.”

“Roger that,” Chris stands a few extra rifle rounds next to the weapon.

Both of them hate this, Claire out there on her own, but it’s the only play they have right now. Sherry is currently sitting in the middle of the room behind them, rooting through all of their files, looking for more connections between herself and this fiasco going on now. Seeing Derek Simmons on that list was a shock, but what scares Jill the most is how dark these new connections are painting the current Government. The B.S.A.A., the National Security Agency, and the Presidency, all corrupted by the power offered by bioterror.

“Just exactly how deep does this go, Chris?” a trail of smoke from the man next to her doesn’t offer any hope.

He leans back from the weapon, rolls his shoulders, and slips back into position, “As deep as it has to. We’ve fought a lot, we’ve killed a lot, and we’ve lost a lot, but after Arklay, we had help, support we could count on. As big as Umbrella was, the United States Government is bigger, and we are farther along now than we ever were before. As dark as the outlook appears to be, do you know what keeps me going?”

No response from the brunette above him, “Claire and Sherry. The amount of hope they still have after all they’ve been through, it’s mind-boggling. Sherry was held captive for about a decade. Sure, her maturity was stunted by it, even for being twenty-one, but she still has hope that things are going to be okay. Claire, she lost her world, but she keeps going, holding on to the faith that Leon is still alive.”

“When did you become so sentimental?” he shakes off the laugh that fills her question, eyes working to count and keep track of all the security.

Chris groans as his age is starting to show with a flash of pain creeping through his back, “Just like the new pains, it must be the old age. I don’t know if the work we do here will be the end of it, or if the fight continues, but because of those two, I want to see where it goes. I want to see where the Rabbit Hole leads.”

“Kevin?” the name strikes a chord with Chris, forcing him to follow Jill’s gaze.

Sure enough, just about to enter a set of double doors, is the D.S.O.’s golden child: Kevin Ryman, “No fucking shit…”

As S.T.A.R.S. was disbanded following the events of the Arklay Mountains, Chris was only able to see Kevin twice before the fall of Raccoon when Chief Irons started a new force to replace the disgraced survivors. Thinking back on it, he reminds Chris a bit of Leon with a mis-timed sense of humor and knack for puns. It was only a year or two ago when Chris and Jill met Kevin again, this time with him no longer wearing R.P.D. blues, but a suit that cost more than most of the Ikea furniture in their shared office.

“Well,” Jill smiles behind the binoculars, “there seems to be one more friendly face down there.”

Chris doesn’t want to kill the flash of hope, but it needs to be said, “Depends on if he sees Claire first…”

11

Door number three is greeted with a series of knocks and answered with a clearly exhausted man at the door, “Yes? How can I help you?”

Leon smiles a bit and nods, “Hello, sir, we were out fishing and our boat sank… My stupid friend here never checked it for leaks. We were wondering if we could come inside and warm up before we get pneumonia, if it isn’t too much trouble of course?”

The pair of weathered eyes scan the men up and down, his eyes narrowing at the soaked-in bloodstains of their clothing, but he slowly nods, “Sure thing, it’s getting a bit windy out as it is. Just do me a favor and take off your shoes and socks once you step in, got it?”

Both men nod graciously, step in, slip off the mentioned items, and are led to a living room lit and heated by a roaring fireplace, “Just make yourselves comfortable right there in front of the fire, ya hear? I’m going to go root through for some dry clothes for you gentlemen.”

Once their savior vanishes into the back of the house, both Josh and Leon sigh heavily and drop down in front of the fireplace, the warmth immediately rejuvenating them, “Thank god that’s over…”

“We are lucky he didn’t ask too many questions,” the heavy footsteps and pump of a shotgun stock put them on edge.

“Who are you?” the man points the shotgun at them, “And what are you doing here?”

_Fucking déjà vu_ , Leon holds his hands up and tries his best to not look threatening from his seated position on the floor, “Easy there, we’re not a threat…”

“Then the blood on your clothes must be yours? The gunpowder stains on your fingers is just an accident?” the man keeps a perfect distance from them, showing training.

Josh slowly turns around, his hands in the air as well, “We just escaped from Wizard Island… There was an incident.”

“Damned fools,” now that’s a curious statement to make, “I told them they were playing with fire… Now, who are you?”

The two Agents share a cautious glance, but Leon opts for honesty, “Leon Kennedy, B.S.A.A. North American Branch.”

“Josh Stone,” he still isn’t sure this is the right call, “B.S.A.A. West African Branch.”

The strange man before them eyes Leon curiously, “They declared you dead, son… Good to see you aren’t, even if they declared you a traitor. Name’s Clive O’Brian.”

“Exactly how do you know me, sir?” Leon reaches out to take the offered handshake.

“Well,” Clive rests the shotgun next to his chair and smiles, “I’m currently enjoying a bit of a reprieve before I start my new job next week,” his head tilts toward a stack of files resting on the table next to a steaming pot of coffee, “help yourself to a cup or two while I fill you in…”

Apparently Clive is set to take over Cranston Reed’s spot as Director of the North American Branch of the B.S.A.A. while the latter is being moved to Global Director under the United Nations. Clive was shocked to hear what was truly going on in Leviathan Station, as he was only instructed it was a holding station for those involved in the creation, sale, purchase, and use of bio-organic weapons. Leon and Josh continue trading stories with their future superior as the fire continues to warm their bodies and souls.

“This is a fine little pickle I’m inheriting,” he rubs the stubble on his chin, “isn’t it?”

“Well, when it involves your boss and his boss, yeah, I’d say we’re in a bit of a pickle,” Leon finishes the cup of coffee and rests the cup down onto the table, “but then again, you don’t sound too surprised at this…”

A laugh, one that feels like truth, “You know who pushed me for this position, son? I had a talk with Chris Redfield once. I was getting ready to write my next novel, _The Unveiled Abyss_ , and needed some real experience with bioterrorism. I was actually surprised he took me up on my offer to listen, but after talking to him, I imagine talking isn’t something people in your line of work get to do very often?”

“It’s usually with someone who gets paid way-too-much-by-the-hour,” Josh nods in agreement with Leon’s statement.

Clive nods slowly and continues, “As he was laying things out to me that he’d been through, he handed me some files to look over, with the threat that if I ever revealed the contents to anyone, he’d cave my head in. Charming fellow, that Chris… He told me about Leviathan Station, Reed, President Benford, and all of you. Spoke real highly of you especially, Leon. I got to say, something bothered me about Cranston as I was reading those files, don’t know if it was just me being paranoid from writing detective novels for the last decade, or what. At the end of our meeting, Chris shook my hand and said he had a feeling that I was, “made for this,”. Guess he mentioned me to President Benford, and here we are. Just what can I do for you gentlemen now, though?”

“We need to get to Tall Oaks, it’s only a couple hours’ flight from here,” Clive nods and tilts his head toward a small wooden box near the front door.

He stands up, back cracking in the process, causing him to groan a bit, “I’ll start fueling her up… Gonna take a bit of time, which works out cause I also got to find you two some clothes. Can’t have you crashing the President’s little meet-and-greet looking like you two kill people with chainsaws.”

_Finally a bit of fucking luck!!!_

11

Kevin smiles as Carla continues to remain latched to his arm as they make their way through the crowd, “Director Ryman, is that you?”

He knows that voice, hates that voice, but he still smiles, turns, and replies back with, “Press Secretary Ashcroft, how nice to see you again.”

Alyssa Ashcroft, another Raccoon City survivor, smiles beneath her blonde locks, and eyes the woman on his arm, “Oh? Who is this? Alyssa Ashcroft.”

“Carla Radames, Alyssa Ashcroft? Aren’t you the reporter who survived Raccoon City? Just how many of you are there working for the President?” Kevin smiles as the two women seem to be hitting it off.

His eyes scan the crowd, instinct unable to be squashed as he has a feeling something isn’t right. Kevin’s time with USSTRATCOM before joining the D.S.O. taught him to trust those instincts forged in the fires of Raccoon City. There are only a hundred people on the guest list, not counting the students and faculty to be allowed in later, but he’s counted a hundred and two. Sure, some of the higher-priority invites have plus-ones to use, but even then, he can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

“Oh wow, another local reporter huh? Let me guess, this is your first high-profile assignment, right? I had one of those too, when I was invited to personally interview Mayor Warren when he announced the first, and only, Raccoon Festival. Don’t let your nerves get to you, though, stick with your gut and you’ll be fine!!” Alyssa nudges Carla in the arm as a sign of solidarity before winking at Kevin and making her way back into the crowd.

“She’s an inspiration to rookie reporters like me,” he nods at her statement and continues leading her through the crowd, growing a bit more aggravated as more and more people stop him.

_The joys of being a superstar I guess_ , he wishes some days he could just go back to being a cop, where his only worries were how many tickets he’d have to write and not how many bottles of alcohol it’s going to take to get to sleep each night.

“Ah, President Benford! I got someone who’d like to meet you!”

11

Ada can’t help the smile that crosses her face as she watches the color fall from Adam’s face. She knows the only info he has on her is a picture and some stories, but even just that is enough to put the fear of God in him. Kevin takes the time to introduce her, which gives him time to regain his composure and offer her his hand to shake.

“Miss Radames, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’d love to give you that interview, but I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait until after the ceremony. I do hope that’s acceptable and I haven’t wasted your time in coming here?” even though he knows who she is, it’s admirable how he’s still playing the part.

She nods politely and shakes his hand, “Oh that’s not a problem, they’re still paying me for the trip and the time spent, so I’ll take all the overtime I can get. It’s a pleasure, Mr. President, I look forward to seeing you later!”

As the President moves around the room to continue garnering votes and donations for his upcoming reelection, Ada spots Claire finally entering the room. Her phone vibrates in her purse, forcing her to read the message, _I’m here. Bring her to me._ Fuck, he’s earlier than he said he’d be. So he wants Claire, does he? That’s a game she can easily win then.

“Oh do excuse me, Kevin, I see another colleague I should go talk to!” she reaches up and plants a soft, innocent kiss on his right cheek, “I’ll catch up with you as soon as I’m done.”

Before he can even object, she vanishes into the growing crowd and makes her way to her target, who has pretty effortlessly managed to ditch her own escort, “Glad to see you aren’t just another tomboy…”

The words are spoken in a single breath as she passes right by the unexpecting Redfield, but she isn’t fast enough to escape the retort, “Glad to see you’re still an unfeeling bitch.”

“Now now, Claire, I come here with a gift… Play your cards right and I promise you a meeting with the President,” the lies fall out of her mouth in a waterfall, but the young Claire just smiles and nods slowly.

The good guys are so easy to toy with, “What do I need to do?”

“I need access to a particular elevator in this University, and he,” Ada slowly guides Claire’s vision to an older gentleman staring at his phone, “has the only key for it.”

“What, your charms don’t work on him?” now to pull the trigger…

Ada smiles and shrugs, “Haven’t even bothered to try… His wife died last week and he’s been distraught about it ever since, he can’t stop looking at her pictures on his phone, which just so happens to contain the key I need.”

“Seems easy enough, why do you need me, though?” hook, line, and sinker, Ada almost feels guilty about this.

A picture is held up, making Claire gasp, “That was his wife a decade ago, look familiar?”

The resemblance is uncanny, his wife looks a lot like Claire, especially with the makeup and the dress she is wearing, “Find a way to get his phone off him and you get your meeting with dear Adam.”

“Fine,” Claire rolls her neck, doing her best to psyche herself up, “this is all the help you’ll get from me, though.”

“They all say that, dear,” Ada vanishes into the crowd once more, her eyes locked on the man with the key she doesn’t really need anymore.

_Do me proud, kid._

11

Sherry flips through the folders, reading this and that, trying to piece together what has happened to the world since the last time she was free right after Raccoon City. Faces, names, dates, and locations that don’t really mean anything, until her eyes rest on a photo attached to a file labeled ‘Code:Veronica’. The blonde hair, the sunglasses, but he looks smaller in this picture than the last time she saw him.

“Couple questions,” Jill turns a little bit to point an ear toward the blonde woman, “One: Why does this picture of Albert Wesker have red marks all over it like a child drew on it in anger? Two: What if I told you I’ve seen him before?”

Sherry actually screams as Chris is at her side faster than a bolt of lightning, “What did you just say? You’ve seen Wesker while you were in captivity? Where? When? For how long?”

“Times and dates escape me, you know that… The first time wasn’t long after I was taken from Leon,” the blonde woman curls into herself as she digs up the memories, “he kept talking about how I was the secret to everything, so very very special.”

“That doesn’t sound like him,” Chris sighs and drops onto the floor next to her, Sherry noticing his eyes aren’t leaving the picture.

There’s a lot of drama there, absolutely, but she has her own demons to fight when it comes to that man in particular, “Didn’t see him again for what I think must have been years, he showed up to move me to a new location, that was the first time I met Krauser. He left me in Krauser’s ‘care’, saying about how I was to be groomed for my ‘higher purpose’.”

“Still spewing the ‘better than thou’ shit, huh? Some people never change…” Chris steps up to his rifle again and buries his face against the scope, “What are our chances we get a good lead to the bastard?”

“Better than our chances of getting our lives back, I’d wager,” Sherry sighs at the change in demeanor of the pair in front of her.

**END**


	11. Survivor's Guilt

Kevin sighs as someone else regales him with the happy story of Krauser’s death in Spain, “Yeah, it’s a shame such a profound Patriot would fall like that… Oh yeah, I did serve with him for a time, I was there for what I wouldn’t realize until later was the start of his fall from grace.”

Flashes of Venzuela fill his head, forcing Kevin to shake his head, “What’s that? Yeah, it was a joint effort when I was still with USSTRATCOM. Ages ago, yeah… Feels like it was only yesterday for me.”

More flashes, these filled with blood and screams, push sweat onto his brow as his eyes scan for something to quiet the demons, “Of course, sir, I do consider myself lucky to have gotten out of there with no serious injuries or issues.”

Carla is back at his side, offering up a drink, “Figured you could use one, soldier.”

The drink is slammed back with a satisfactory sigh, Kevin finding himself hoping Carla might be the kind of girl who will stick around in the morning. Women and whiskey have become pretty commonplace fixtures in his life since escaping Raccoon City with all the others. He chuckles to himself, as whiskey and women have always been a part of his life, but now, now though, they are necessary to strangle the demons before they strangle him.

As the glass is rotated in his hands, he smiles as the little journalist on his arm takes the empty and replaces it with her own glass, “Take your time with this one. It’s going to be a long night and I’d rather not have to find another date because you are puking in the fake plants on either side of the stage.”

“Noted,” he nods and takes a long sip of the liquid courage, finding its warmth more comforting than normal, “is there anyone else I can introduce you to in this party?”

His eyes are still scanning the room as more people begin to enter the large banquet hall. Nothing really out of the ordinary as it seems most of the new guests are just teachers and faculty with their plus-ones. There are a few strange faces, but they must be the plus-ones as he recognizes most of the school faculty from the previous few days here setting up security. New face, back of the room, shocking red hair and piercing blue eyes, but why does she feel so familiar?

“Who put you up to this!? You think this is a sick joke!?” ah, the Assistant Dean, with a voice like that, it can only be Assistant Dean Roberts.

Kevin looks up from his drink to see the strange redhead slowly backing up from him, “I’m sorry! I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the school! I was looking to apply for the fall classes next year!”

Roberts throws a hand up to, what, hold the tiny redhead at bay? “You look just like Samantha! Why do you look like her!?”

“I don’t know any Samantha, sir, I’m sorry to bother you!” this is when it happens, when instinct just takes over.

Kevin is halfway to the pair just as Roberts pulls his fist back, but his feet skid to a stop as he watches the redhead disable him like she’s practiced the throw a million times. She pulls her left foot back, spinning her body just enough for the fist to miss, grabs the thrown arm with both hands, and with a simple thrust of her hip, flips him over her and to the ground. He almost missed the phone pocketed into her ample cleavage, almost, but she’s not as good as she thinks.

“Bastard! All I wanted was to know about the school!” with a huff, the redhead turns from him and starts to make her way toward the marked restrooms.

That’s strange, Kevin finds that he is actually smiling as he watches the recently assaulted woman slip through the crowd. There, one small glance back tells him she knows he’s following her, but she doesn’t let up. There’s a perseverance that borders on arrogance in this woman, an arrogance he starts to recognize.

“Hey handsome!” Carla appears at his side, “Where are you off to in such a rush?”

Kevin doesn’t take his eyes off the redhead in question, which he notices Carla catch onto, “Oh, I see… Am I leaving this little party alone, then?”

Into the restroom she goes, he’ll keep an eye on the door for her egress, but for now, he returns some of his focus to the raven-haired beauty in front of him, “Oh absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you slip out of my life?”

_Who the hell are you?_ Red hair stays locked in his peripheral as the pair move back into the crowd

11

Clive drops the hose back onto the tank of fuel and clasps his hands together tight to ward off the cold threatening to set off his arthritis, “You two don’t look that bad, I’m surprised some of my stuff actually fits you…”

Both men are dressed in a pair of thermal khakis and flannel shirts in either red or blue, which Leon grumbles something about, “What’s that, son?”

“We look like the cast of Grumpy Old Men…” Clive can’t help but laugh at this comment; he thinks he’s going to like leading the B.S.A.A. if they are all going to be like Kennedy here.

The oldest of the trio steps into the plane and waves them in, “Come on in, I’ll get you there in no time.”

“As much as I appreciate the help, I still do not quite understand myself how you can trust us so blindly,” Josh just radiates his uneasiness about the whole situation, and Clive can truly understand that.

“Well,” a headset is placed over his own ears as the other two men mimic him with their own, “Chris has my respect… Also,” the engine is started and he guides the plane out onto the water, “I think Cranston Reed is a pompous jackass and definitely someone a little off-kilter.”

He watches out of the corner of his eye as Leon slowly tilts his head toward the window and rests his cheek against his knuckles, “What’s got you so lost in thought, kid?”

A scoff and a shake of the scraggly dark blonde hair atop his head, “…Women…”

“I get that, son,” the plane quickly lifts into the air and Clive adjusts a few more controls before rolling his neck and patting Leon on the shoulder, “we got a long flight ahead of us, so start from the beginning and fill me in.”

Leon lifts from his slouched position and shifts in his seat to sort of face Clive directly, “Well it started when Reed called us into hi-“

“Not there, Leon,” Clive’s eyes flash, “THE beginning. I got a lot of catching up to do in regards to the world of bioterror, so start from Umbrella and work up to where we are now.”

“1998…” Leon’s voice fills the heads of the two men joining him in the plane, “I’ll never forget it… Raccoon City was a town brought into modern times by the blood money pumped into it by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals. It’s staggering what their money bought; it didn’t just buy a town, it bought nearly everyone in it. Chief of Police, Mayor, Lawyers, Doctors, even entire maintenance companies just to keep people from snooping around in the sewers. It didn’t start in the city though, the Umbrella Conspiracy starts in July of 1998, in the outskirts of Raccoon City and into the Arklay Mountains. There, Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. was tricked into heading to the area by their own Captain, Albert Wesker, a man who secretly worked for Umbrella. He brought these cops in to collect test data on the combat viability of the virus and its B.O.W.s with the intent to defect from Umbrella and sell them to the highest bidder.”

The craft lists to the left as Clive starts to get the plane on its flight path, “Out of twelve members divided between two teams, only five survived, or so we thought. Chris, Jill, Barry, Rebecca, and Brad. Later we would learn Wesker was still stalking around in the shadows. Chris, upon return to Raccoon, immediately started an investigation into Umbrella, which brought him into contention with Brian Irons, Chief of Police. He was placed on Administrative Leave, which he used to travel to Europe to track down information on Umbrella and a secretive G-Virus…”

“How many of these fucking viruses are there?” Josh holds up a hand to shrug Clive’s question away, allowing Leon to continue.

“Fast forward a couple months to the end of September, Umbrella, knowing that one of their own, William Birkin, was going to give the G-Virus over to the US Military in exchange for safety for his family, dispatched a Sweeper Team into the Nest beneath the streets of Raccoon. There they shot Birkin, stole samples of both T and G, and headed out of the city. Birkin injected himself with his own creation, saving his life just for it to mutate into a monster…”

The story continues on as both Josh and Clive listen intently…

11

Sherry jumps from her chair as two cases are dropped heavily onto the leaning table in the center of the room, “What are those?”

Jill recognizes the emblem carved into the top as Chris flips open the locks and opens the cases, “You got Barry’s Samurai Edge?”

“Hah, the old fart sent it to me… I sent him yours hoping he’d tune it up, add a little kick, but he sends it back along with this,” the hefty handgun is pulled from the padded interior, looking just like it did the day Barry got it personally delivered by the Kendo Brothers themselves.

Chris’s partner steps up and eyes the weapon, “It was chambered in .40S&W right? I remember it having a bit more stopping power than the nine-mil,” her eyes shift to her personal sidearm, “did… Did Barry do the same to mine?”

Her partner nods and pushes the case toward her, “He calls them Katanas. Rebecca is working on a neurotoxin that disrupts the electrical signals in an infected brain and the .40 is the perfect size to load it into. Quint got a hold of the data and is calling them Ramrods.”

“Prototype anti-B.O.W. weaponry, huh?” she picks up the weapon, pulls the slide back, looks down through the opening, “about time Quint delivered on the promises he made when we hired him. How long until Rebecca has the toxin finished?”

This is, of course, when Chris delivers the bad news, “P-Epsilon ring a bell?” she nods, “It’s been heavily regulated by the United Nations, Rebecca is working with vials at a time.”

“Claire said they had barrels of the stuff in the Antarctic base,” Chris knows where Jill is going with this and nods right along with her words, “so, they are limiting how many samples are out in the ‘wild’ to prevent regular people from getting a hand on it. Makes sense, but why hasn’t the B.S.A.A. or the D.S.O. requested larger samples for weapons development?”

“They did and that’s why Rebecca is getting small vials instead of single-dose ampules,” the anger in his voice at the bullshit that is political red-tape is palpable between them, “but if the email from Rebecca is right, they should be ready by spring of next year for wide-field deployment.”

Jill slips a magazine into her Katana, pulls the slide back, and flicks the safety on before slipping it into the holster on her right hip, “I can’t wait to feed a handful of those things to Wesker the next time we get our hands on the slippery bastard.”

Chris turns from the weapons cases and back toward the University off in the distance, worry for his sister creeping up his spine, “I wonder how Claire is doing down there amongst the smug rich pricks?”

11

Claire fills the cup of her hands with water and splashes it across her face as deep and slow breaths work through her body, “Holy shit…”

Her heart is beating a mile-a-minute, adrenaline causing her hands to shake and pupils to dilate, but she did it. The phone is in her possession, but can Claire honestly give it over to Ada? What if she’s here to kill the President? The spy hasn’t been seen since Raccoon City, Leon telling her the last time he saw her she was plummeting to her death off the railing in the Nest. Where has she been all this time and who is she working for? Blue eyes reflect back at her in the mirror and she sighs heavily, knowing that she has to be connected to Reed in some way, but Reed can’t be the puppet-master as he’s too public to be able to hide that much shit.

The phone vibrates, a message from a ‘Liz’, his daughter from the snippet of the message she has sent, “Dad! Just want to say thanks for letting me go to this par-. Oh, seems like Liz is a party girl. Cute.”

As the phone is about to be placed onto the counter, she feels it, the distinct impression between the phone and the case, “The key is contained in the phone…”

Claire laughs lightly to herself as she peels the case off the phone and smiles down at the worn brass key. An idea flashes in her mind and she considers replacing the key with another one, but remembers two reasons why that would be a bad idea: one, Ada is smart enough to know immediately it’s the wrong key and two, Claire doesn’t have another key on her to replace it with. She sighs and palms the key while slipping the phone back into the front of her dress, adjusting her bust in the mirror before fixing her hair and turning toward the bathroom door.

She slowly pulls the door open, looks up, and immediately makes eye contact with the man Ada has attached herself to, “Fuck.”

Claire blinks and he’s gone, but as she starts to look around for him, he wraps a hand around her arm and pulls her close, “Hi, I think we need to talk. Kevin Ryman,” the badge is pulled up to her face, “Department of Security Operations. Let’s go.”

_Christ he’s fast, what the hell am I supposed to do?_ Her mind starts panicking when she makes eye contact with Ada, who mouths the words ‘drop the key’.

Yeah, that’ll take care of the key, but what about the phone currently hidden in her bra? The man’s outburst when she approached him had to have grabbed Kevin’s attention, shit, how is she going to stop this from getting worse? The key is quickly slid into a potted plant they walk past and Claire instantly recognizes the shift in his eyes as he knows what she just did, _FUCK!_

“In here, miss,” the door is propped open for her and he closes it behind them, “so exactly who do I have the pleasure of interrogating tonight?”

“Interrogating?” she leans back against the desk in the middle of the room, well aware of what she’s pointing out to him, “why would you need to interrogate me?”

“Look, sweetheart,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, which forces memories of Leon doing the exact same thing through her mind, stealing her breath for a second, “as much as I love a good old-fashioned rich-people’s party, this is a little too much excitement to be mere coincidence.”

“Well, it’s a party with the President, you would think excitement would be the normal with him,” she lays on the innocence and passion, trying to see where he goes.

This dog doesn’t take the bait it seems, “Can the act, this is your first little rodeo, isn’t it? I can smell it on you like that perfume…” he stops, his nostrils flaring as he takes in more of the scent, “Four distinct scents in the layers… First is caramel, then jasmine and rose, followed by sandalwood…”

He leans in close and takes in another sniff, causing Claire to gasp and prepare to push him off, “There it is… Orange blossom and cedar… Escada, 1998 it seems… Someone has some very good taste, and a penchant to hold on to the finer things in life since that isn’t made anymore… Funny thing about that scent, I’ve only smelled it once before…”

“Oh… Oh yeah?” she curses herself as her words stumble, just who the hell is this man?

“Yeah,” one hand is slammed into the desk to her left, “just once before… In 1998,” he slams the other hand down to her right and he leans in to her face, “Raccoon City, on Jill Valentine…”

_FUCK! FUCK! DAMN IT FUCK!_ All coherent thought leaves her mind as he stares into her eyes with an intensity she has never felt before.

Is it hunger? Determination? What? What is going through Kevin’s mind right now? He holds the gaze for another minute, his breathing steady and shallow, like he’s trying not to take in the perfume anymore. She resolves herself to hold the gaze right back, not giving him any outward sign of her unease.

He smiles, he actually fucking smiles, “So you must know Jill Valentine… The red hair I don’t recognize, but that glare, that determination, that **_screams_** Redfield… Claire Redfield, it’s a real pleasure to meet you…”

_Is this man practically a fucking genius? How in the hell can he remember things like that from so long ago?_ She shifts awkwardly under his stare and close proximity, which just seems to feed him somehow.

“Yeah, I’m dealing with Claire Redfield alright… So what were you doing bothering the Assistant Dean back there?” his eyes drop down to her cleavage, which is bristled with sweat.

She huffs a bit and jumps up to sit on the table, pulling herself away from him, “My eyes are up here…”

“Yeah, but his phone is right there,” a single finger is extended toward the space between her breasts, “and I’m going to need to get that back…”

Claire feels the challenge and curses silently as her Redfield blood makes itself truly known, “Go ahead and try it, hotshot.”

Grab the hand, snap the wrist, punch him in the face, but Claire just completely freezes as Kevin just reaches right into her dress and pulls the phone out in a single motion, “Thanks. I’ll make sure he gets this back.”

Claire presses a hand to her chest and feels her blood boil at being bested like she was nothing, “He-Hey! You can’t just touch a woman like that!”

“You challenged,” he turns back to her from the door and winks at her, “I won. Don’t go anywhere.”

Claire reaches for the doorknob as it clicks shut, “He locked me in here!?”

She kicks the door, “BASTARD!”

**END**


	12. Rampant Fates

Cranston Reed stares at the empty bottle of Cognac in front of him, trying his best to shatter the glass with his rage, “Sir?”

The soldier that turned toward him nods and speaks again, “Sir, I just want you to know it’s a pleasure to fly with you. We have your back.”

Cranston nods back, but he notices as the soldier next to him grabs his attention and he’s suddenly left alone again. There’s something wrong with this flight, he can feel it. Pike leading a team he chose, he combines that with the reports and information he has about Pike’s mission in Spain, it all stinks to high heaven. Is this the product of his own sins? Or, his eyes drop down to the empty bottle, is it a product of his own innate paranoia and inebriation? The bottle tilts, falls over, and rolls off the table as the plane lists to the left. As it bounces around on the floor, Reed slowly stands up and walks toward the cockpit.

His left hand quickly raises up and raps on the door, “ _Sorry sir, I’m going to have to ask you to return to your seat._ ”

“Pike, open the damn door,” he’s not in the mood for games.

The next voice isn’t Pike and it’s definitely not his usual pilot, “ _This is the Captain speaking, we are about to hit a bit of turbulence, so please put the good Director in his seat and strap him in._ ”

_Who the hell?_

11

Ada watches as the door Kevin took Claire through closes, “Bingo…”

She moves swiftly through the crowd, her eyes set on the planter Claire dropped the key into. Her perfectly painted nails dip into the soft dirt, extract the key, and quickly slip it into the band of her stockings. Practiced ears pick up the sound of the door opening and she acts quickly; Ada silently slips a drink off the passing tray and leans against the wall opposite the planter, her eyes sparkling as Kevin emerges from the room and locks the door behind him.

The phone is in his left hand, which causes her a bit of dismay, but Claire isn’t her problem anymore, that is until she remembers the message from her handler, “Carla? Hah, couldn’t stand to be that far away from me, eh?”

“Well, I did just watch you dart across the room to vanish into a side office with a beautiful redhead,” the smirk on her lips and the batting of her eyelashes does the trick as he smiles back and extends an arm out for her to take as they rejoin the people gathered for the speech.

Kevin guides them through the crowd, up to the man Ada had Claire talk to, “Roberts? I’ve found your phone.”

“Oh,” he looks down at the phone, before almost shaking as he takes it, “OH! Thank you so much! This phone contains some of the last memories of Samantha…”

The aging man wanders off, murmuring to himself, “Well, that’s my good deed for the day. Care for a drink? My treat.”

Ada smirks and paws at his chest, “Open bar, free drinks, and you are offering to pay. My hero.”

“Only the best for the women in my life,” he holds up a hand to the bartender as they approach and right as the pair reaches the table, a pair of glasses are waiting for them.

Ada notices the type of alcohol in the glass as it is raised to her nose, “Is this from President Benford’s distillery?”

Kevin slowly sips at the glass, nodding slowly, clearly savoring the liquid, “Yes ma’am. When I heard he was going to hand ownership off to his nephew, I made sure to buy as many barrels and bottles as I could before the little brat ruined it.”

“Smart move,” the drink is raised to her lips, the liquid doing its job and warming her insides as it’s quickly swallowed and the glass is pushed back to the bartender, “man may have some terrible political positions, but he can definitely craft a fantastic whiskey.”

She feels one eye shift toward her direction, “Which positions do you not agree with?”

_Remember, girl, you are a small-town reporter_ , “His bioterror proposal is the most egregious. I agree it is an issue to be tackled, but resources are being poured overseas when they could instead be used here for infrastructure and social development.”

“Yeah,” she watches as the glass in his hands almost cracks, seems she tripped a nerve, “you are a nice, innocent woman, so I’m going to let that slide. That infrastructure and social programs you love so much?” he’s suddenly staring straight into her eyes, catching her a bit off-guard. “They won’t do much against the shit I’ve seen if it were to ever happen here again.”

11

_Who in their right mind would design offices that lock from the outside!?_ Claire mentally curses her luck as she works to pick the lock in front of her.

Stupid Kevin Ryman, stupid D.S.O., stupid Ada fucking Wong, stupid Cranston Reed and his greed, and stupi- she can’t even focus anymore, the rage is almost blinding. The makeshift pick, which resembles the one she made it through Raccoon City with, snaps as her hands shake, which only causes Claire to become further enraged. She kicks the door as hard as she can in the heels she’s wearing before slamming her forehead against the wood, tears stinging the sides of her eyes.

“ _Ma’am? Are you okay?_ ” the voice has to be Secret Service, or someone working with Agent Ryman.

Damsel in distress should work, right? “I was pacing around and I did something to my ankle… It’s hot and the pain is.. Is.. Really really bad. I can’t get up…”

There is a long pause, one she hopes is the man considering coming in to help her, “ _I’ll slip an ice pack under the door for you in a minute. Director Ryman was very direct in his order that no one enter your room._ ”

“Well, I’d like a name to attach to the lawsuit I’m going to hit you all with if my ankle gets any worse,” she sighs and drops to the floor, her eyes still scanning the room for any way to escape her current predicament.

_Come on, Claire, you managed to escape that room on the freighter a few more times than they expected, so this is nothing, just be the Redfield you know you are_ , yeah, that was some pep talk…

Claire runs a hand through the loose strands of her hair, sighing heavily, “I could’ve skipped all of this if I didn’t sneak off on my own to go rescue Sherry…”

11

President Adam Benford stands at the back of the crowd, watching the increasing number of guests, and slowly scratches at the pocket with his nearly-empty pack of cigarettes, “Something bothering you, sir?”

“No,” he smiles at the voice, doing his best to hide the trepidation crawling up his spine, “nothing you need concern yourself with, Helena. Has there been any word of this biohazard threat I called the B.S.A.A. in for? I’ve got donors asking questions and only so many of them are buying the line that we are honoring them tonight as well.”

Agent Harper, who has only been with him for a year, shakes her head sadly, “Nothing concrete, sir. Do you need me to write up a quick addendum to the speech about our brave men and women of the B.S.A.A.?”

This is one of those moments he’s happy he snatched her from the grip of the CIA, her penchant for knowing almost exactly what he needs, “No, no… I already have some ideas in mind and my staff tells me some of the best speeches I give are usually off-the-cuff. You should go enjoy what passes for a party in the Government, Helena. Go have a drink or two,” he leans in, “I won’t tell your boss.”

“Sir,” she nods politely, steps off the platform, and turns around to give him a short salute, “You _are_ my boss.”

“And I’ll never tell,” he laughs lightly as she vanishes into the crowd.

His mind vanishes as well, focusing on everything that’s not included within the building he currently occupies. Cranston did not take his promotion as well as he hoped he would, which means there are secrets between the two men. Clive asking for a delay on accepting the job offer, even with Chris’s glowing recommendation, is strange, but he chocks it up to the optics of someone being recommended for the job by a recently-declared terrorist. The anniversary of Risa’s murder is coming up in the next couple of months, that’s going to increase media scrutiny, with them looking for anything they can use for clickbait and ratings.

“Adam,” the ice tinkling around in the glass offered to him by Kevin Ryman causes the older man to refocus.

He takes the glass and slowly sips the whiskey within, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for saving what was left of my brewery before that jackass tanked it. Fantastic whiskey distillery turned into a craft beer and gastric- gasol-… What the fuck was the word?”

“He turned it into a Gastro Pub and Craft Beer Emporium,” Kevin holds his glass up in mock remembrance, “I mourn the loss of a fine, fine establishment.”

A good chuckle between longtime friends, “Thank you for being here, it’s nice to have someone I can just, be Adam with… I’m tired of the ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. President’ day in and day out. I see you’ve made a nice friend.”

The glass is tilted toward Ada or Carla, with Kevin’s eyes following the trajectory, “Mm, yeah. Nice bit of luck there, with that one. Don’t even say it, Adam.”

“What?” he feigns innocence, but they’ve been friends too long it seems.

The younger man finishes his glass and starts to walk toward her, “I know you… I can hear the words bouncing around in your head, ‘There are no coincidences in our world anymore.’ I am sober enough today to know it’s true. But Adam,” he turns to look at his friend as the glass is dropped onto the passing tray of a waitress, “I’m drunk enough to just not care.”

11

Cranston pounds on the door to the cockpit, “Who the hell is flying this plane!?”

He shrugs off the hand that rests on his shoulder, “PIKE! Open the hell up!!!”

“ _This is the Captain speaking, please put the good Director in his seat. Now._ ”

More hands and arms reach around him to pull him into his chair, but Cranston finally recognizes the voice, “Is tha-“

The Director of the B.S.A.A. is unable to finish as he’s promptly rendered unconscious by Rico, who has appeared from the cockpit and driven his fist right into Reed’s face, “Put him in his chair, strap him in, and if he knocks on the cockpit door one more time, I’m throwing someone from the plane. When he wakes up, remind him that he drank way too much already and keep him drinking nothing but water from _that_ bottle.”

The men nod and follow his orders, allowing Rico to reenter the cockpit and drop down into the copilot seat, “Sorry about that. Had to take care of rowdy passenger.”

The man sitting next to him just nods and keeps the plane on its course, “Got another couple of hours, you should get a nap in before we land.”

11

“After burying Wesker under a pile of girders and pipes, Chris returned to the hangar, hopped into the jet, and flew back to the States with Claire safe and sound. We tried to go back in and verify his claims of having captured Steve’s body and the T-Veronica virus within, but we were… Unsuccessful… Umbrella’s self-destruct systems were very thorough,” it’s at the end of this particular adventure that Leon realizes he’s been basically talking for the past hour or so and the two men with him haven’t said a word.

Clive is the first to speak, “A virus that requires someone to be put into stasis for damn near two decades? That’s fucking crazy.”

Leon nods in agreement, he silently thanks God that Claire made it out of there mostly unscathed, “You said Claire had grown… Close to this Steve?”

It only makes sense, he had Ada, someone he felt like he loved after a few measly hours following her around like a dog in heat, so Claire growing attached to Steve through their ordeal is natural, but Josh does deserve an answer to his question, “You survived the torching of Kijuju, right, Josh?”

“Yes,” the tone in that single word tells Leon he needs to tread carefully.

He turns to gaze at his partner, “Report says you survived with only one other person, right? Sheva Alomar, recent recruit into the West African B.S.A.A. The ordeal must have been tremendous for you both, did you not grow closer to her as a result of that fight to survive?”

Josh’s eyes darken, a look Leon knows well as one of a man who is reliving a nightmare, “I did grow close to her yes. It wasn’t sexual, or romantic, it was… Almost instinctual. You come to depend on a person to survive so hard that they just kind of become a part of your life. The hardest thing I had to do was…”

“I know, man,” he drops a hand on Josh’s knee in solidarity; he read the reports, he knows that as the thermobaric bombs dropped on the Kijuju Autonomous Zone Josh was forced to kill Sheva before she succumbed to whatever the hell destroyed that city.

A piece of paper is handed to Leon by Josh’s trembling hand, “This is the only piece of info to make it out of the KAZ debriefings. They confiscated everything from me… My clothes, my weapons, my equipment, and any documents I managed to gather.”

The folded piece of paper is opened and the only thing more shocking that the word is the Umbrella letterhead emblazoned on the browned paper, “Progenitor?”

11

Helena stares down at her phone, not happy with the message that just popped in, “ _Get the redhead and take her upstairs._ ”

Now just how in the hell is she going to do this? The D.S.O. Agent is one of Ryman’s best, so getting him away from the door is not going to be easy. The Secret Service Agent slowly makes her way through the crowd to the office the D.S.O. and Secret Service set up as a ‘holding area’ of sorts if anything was to happen. Helena stops and shakes her head, what if she only has to worry about getting the girl upstairs?

Her internal question is answered as her radio bursts to life, “ _We have a biohazard signature detected within the perimeter. All B.S.A.A. and D.S.O. agents meet at rally point Foxtrot._ ”

The Agent in front of her confirms the order into the radio and quickly makes his way past her, “Harper, right? Keep an eye on the POI in here.”

“Got it,” her eyes follow him as he hustles toward the side door.

Once he is out of sight, she slips the key from her pocket, inserts it into the lock, and with a turn, she frees the woman inside, “Who the hell are you?”

“Agent Helena Harper, Secret Service, remember? I’m to escort you to the President. He’s asked to see you,” the door is held open as the redheaded woman gives her a side glance as she exits the room.

Helena peeks around the corner, making sure Adam is out of sight, and quickly escorts her across the hall, up the stairs, and through a couple of hallways, ending up at a set of stairs, “He’s expecting you up these stairs. I need to get back downstairs and keep an eye on the guests.”

_Fuck my life_.

**END**


	13. Hazard Pay

Chris looks through the scope, his right eyebrow arching over the pad, “Jill, something’s going on at the University.”

His partner drops down at his side, gripping the Spotter’s Scope in her hands, “Why would the B.S.A.A. be heading inside?”

“That’s it, we’re going in. Something’s not right and my sister is caught in the middle of it,” the rifle is left on its perch, Chris opting to grab his handgun and assault rifle.

Sherry stands up, but Jill holds up a hand, “Nope, you don’t get to go on this one. Sit there, keep looking through the photos, and find us more links in the chain. We’ll be back before you know it.”

The blonde woman groans a bit and drops back into the chair, clearly not happy that Claire could be in trouble and she’s forced to stay here. The pair quickly descend the flights of stairs in silence, Chris’s mind finding its laser focused on the task at hand. The door is kicked open, they hop into the van, and with a twist of the key, they are on their way to the University. The streetlights offer brief glimpses of illumination into the vehicle, allowing Jill to really see the stress on her partner’s face.

_Family is the most important thing, Jill. Friends are friends, until they become family_ , she remembers his words well from on the way back after the Arklay Mansion.

She was struggling with why the deaths that happened bothered her so much, it reminded her of how she felt when her mother died when Jill was nine years old. Chris reminded her that the members of S.T.A.R.S. weren’t just people, weren’t just friends, they were a family. Losing family is always hard and that’s why the pain hurts her even to this day. She reaches over to stroke his arm, but his muscles instinctively twitch, showing her now is not the time for softness, for kindness.

Her eyes return to the road, pointing out a turn to him, “Here. Second left after that, and then the third right will get us there. Traffic’s gone so we should get there faster than Claire did.”

“I’m going to tear anyone who even looks at me wrong to pieces…” overly-dramatic Chris is not her favorite version of the man driving their vehicle right now.

11

Clive looks through the window to his left, smiling, “We are just now approaching Tall Oaks, the airport is another five minutes away.”

“Hey,” Leon looks around, hands opening and closing anything nearby, “you got a radio on this thing?”

Josh reaches between them, pointing right to the radio, “Think that’s a radio.”

Leon’s eyes roll as he turns back to the device in question, quickly messing with the dial and pressing in a series of keys, “ _Biohazard signature detected within the perimeter. All B.S.A.A. and D.S.O. agents meet at rally point Foxtrot._ ”

“ _South side of the University is clear,_ ” another voice chimes in.

“Screw the airport, land this plane as close to the fucking University as you can,” Leon reaches for Clive’s shotgun and begins loading it with shells.

“Hold on there, hotshot, this is a seaplane. I don’t have wheels,” Leon turns to face him, about to say something when, “but I do have a parachute. I can get you over the University so you can jump.”

The blonde Agent nods, tears the seatbelt from the wall of the plane, and starts fashioning it into a sling for the shotgun, “Just get me over the school.”

“Once you are out, I’ll land the plane at the lake just outside the airport and we’ll double-time it over to your location,” the plane lists a bit to the left as he adjusts course.

11

Cranston’s eyes fly open as the plane shakes, “What the fuck!?”

Right, he’s on a plane, heading to Tall Oaks, with… “PIKE!”

“Yes sir?” the man in question appears from the cockpit, “How was your nap? Was just about to come wake you up. We’ve landed. The men are going to unload the cargo and procure a vehicle. We just got word of a biohazard signature detected at the University. No word on the President, yet.”

A hand is run through his hair, Cranston unsure of when he fell asleep, but also very aware that his neck is sore, “Anyone got any aspirin?”

Two pills are placed onto the table, “We told you to recline, sir. Payment for not following our suggestions. I’ll come get you when we are good to go.”

A vehicle starts up and pulls away, catching all of his attention, “What was that, Pike?”

“Some of the men are heading on out to check the situation, we’ll join them soon.”

The pain in his head is a bit annoying, but Cranston is going to focus on the mission at hand. Get the team there, attempt to rescue Adam, fail, and blame it on the actions of Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine as he wheels their bodies out of the University. This plan is going work, it has to, and it is with this thought in mind that he finally descends the steps from the plane and drops down to the tarmac.

“Arm up, men, we are going to save the President and whoever else we can,” he nods at Pike, who takes his order and hustles the group to unload the plane.

Cranston climbs into the passenger seat of the lead Humvee, hands working the radio in the dashboard, “Ivy Team, this is Director Reed, give me a sit-rep.”

“ _We are searching the perimeter now for traces of the threat. No sign as of this moment, sir,_ ” has Ada really failed him?

“Has anyone alerted the Package?”

Silence, this worries him, “ _We have been ordered to only alert the Package if there is a confirmed biohazard_.”

“Copy that, keep me informed,” Rico climbs into the driver seat and starts the vehicle, the drum of the engine actually helping dull the headache.

_Almost time…_ something doesn’t seem right about how he woke up, just what is he missing?

11

Claire has learned one thing from her brother more than anything else: trust your senses. Her senses right now are basically alarm bells, screaming every version of the phrase ‘run’. The stairs Helena dropped her off at are barely lit by more than one or two wall sconces, each step creaks and squeals, and the light hair on her arms is standing on end. Adam is waiting for her at the top of these stairs, probably chose this location to keep away prying eyes and open ears. Still, her subconscious is doing its best to convince her to run, to escape, to run back and tell Chris to come in here and kick everyone’s asses.

_Get a grip, girl_ , the pep-talk takes some of the edge off, but not nearly enough, as her teeth start chattering.

“President Adam Benford?” the double doors at the top of the stairs are foreboding and intricately decorated, swinging open on well-oiled hinges as she steps through them.

A clock, again, Claire finds herself in a poorly-lit clock once again, “My name is Claire, are you there?”

A form stands at the end of the room, staring through the glass of the clock face as the second hand ticks past, “Mr. President?”

“I’m afraid,” no… “that the person you seek is not here, Miss Redfield,” he turns around, eyes flashing red just like they did a decade ago, “but I am. And I so welcome your company…”

11

Kevin slowly turns toward the crowd, eyes immediately noticing something is off, “James, sit-rip on the suspect.”

“ _It’s Harper, sir. I relieved James. Suspect is still quiet, only speaking when spoken to._ ”

Something is wrong, he counts a drastic decrease in the number of bodies in the room, so just out of habit, he checks the channel his radio is on, and son of a bitch, it’s two off where it’s supposed to be, “Radio was on the wrong channel, update me.”

“ _Biohazard signature detected and we are doing a sweep. Nothing to worry about yet_ ,” this puts him on edge, but if they haven’t found anything, Kevin can afford a little more relaxation.

He turns back, locking gazes with Carla, “Seems I’ve trained them too well. They don’t need me.”

“Good, that frees us up, then, doesn’t it?” her hand slowly slides up and down his arm, stopping to circle around the space between his thumb and index finger, “I know an office upstairs that is empty. Unless you’d rather go to a place a bit more scenic and romantic?”

Kevin knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but that last drink was definitely one too many, “Lead the way. I can spare a few minutes.”

“How many,” she leads him through the crowd effortlessly, “is a few?”

“Oh, I think I can spare about seven… Seven minutes to play with you…” he suddenly finds himself standing at the steps leading up to the clock adorning the southern face of the University.

The clock in the courtyard is a miniature version of- and he forgets his train of thought as she pulls him down by his shirt collar into a kiss, one that’s deep, methodical, almost calculated. Red flags, red flags everywhere, but she smells of jasmine, her warmth is intoxicating even to an already intoxicated man, and he needs something to quiet the demons tonight.

He goes, he goes willingly, following her up the stairs like a dog in heat, his hands sliding up and down her moving hips, delighting in the very feel of her body, “Ah, I see you brought another to play… Do play nicely and sit with our other esteemed guest.”

Intoxication or not, uncomfortable pants or not, Kevin is still highly-trained and has his gun drawn and aimed at the mysterious voice, but he finds himself flipping through the air and landing on his back, Carla planting a heeled foot on his chest to keep him down, “Down, boy. Do as he says and you’ll both make it out of here.”

“Doubt that…” but he does as he’s told, sitting down next to the woman he recognizes as Claire Redfield; seems Helena is a liar, too.

Kevin looks to Carla, over to Claire, and then thinks on Helena, “…Women…”

11

“Chris… Brakes would be good. Brakes, Chris… BRAKES!” Jill hunkers into her seat as Chris guides the van right into the first security checkpoint, “Oh God, forgive him…”

The windshield shatters as the vehicle screams through, tearing the metal detectors, x-ray scanners, and tables apart, Chris barely able to maintain control as it skids to a stop just past the main gate of Ivy University. Jill groans as the vehicle comes to a stop, the engine ticking, but there’s no time to rest as there are already armed guards approaching their location.

“Freeze! Put your hands in the air where we can see them!” it’s a B.S.A.A. soldier, of course it is.

Jill slowly steps from the van with her hands in the air and she growls at the first man to approach, “You don’t understand. There’s a very credible threat against the President’s life. We don’t have time for this!”

“Shut up,” no, not him, he wasn’t supposed to be here… Sure enough though, from the crowd steps Cranston Reed, their former boss and current giant pain in the ass, “Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield, you are both under arrest for violations of the United Nations Anti-Biohazard Mandate.”

Jill feels the hair on the back of her neck as Chris turns to face his former boss, teeth grit together so hard Jill swears she just heard one or two crack, “What the fuck did you just say? The U.N.A.M.? You are arresting us for dispersing a Category Zero Biohazard? Name the strain and the country you sniveling piece of raccoon-shit.”

“Unknown pathogen released in the Spanish countryside,” two soldiers step up and slowly start to place the two in handcuffs when suddenly all radios burst to life.

“ _B.E.D. located! Shit, it’s been activated! Evacuate the package! EVACUATE THE PA-_ “ there is an explosion from within the Banquet Hall north of them, Chris and Jill watching in horror as the white lights are shaded a deep blue, but they aren’t able to see any more than that as solid metal shutters immediately drop down over the windows and doors.

“Attention all B.S.A.A., D.S.O., and Secret Service members still outside the Hall, this is B.S.A.A. Director Cranston Reed. A Biohazardous Explosive Device has been detonated within the Banquet Hall and containment measures were activated. Everyone is to maintain the perimeter until the contagion has diminished enough to allow entry,” he gazes down at Chris and Jill, an eyebrow slowly raising at the distraught look on Chris’s face.

Reed drops down to a squat in front of the larger man, the radio and his pistol hanging loose in his hands, “Lose something in there?”

Chris clenches at the dirt and grass, tears stinging his eyes, but he shakes them away, “Just democracy, freedom, or what remained of your humanity you coward…”

_God damn it, Claire… I’m so so sorry…_

11

“I don’t have all day, kid,” Clive starts another circle of the site in question, “either jump or close the door, my old bones can’t handle the cold like it used to.”

“Yeah, just give me a second, heights and me don’t agree today it seems,” Leon grips the edge of the doorway and prepares to jump, “ _B.E.D. located! Shit, it’s been activated! Evacuate the package! EVACUATE THE PA-._ “

He slowly turns back to the two men, “Reed fucking did it… I hope to god the others weren’t there…”

“Then go,” Clive reaches to push him, but Josh beats him to it, shoving the blonde man from the plane effortlessly.

_Oh yeah, totally in the right frame of mind for a potentially deadly parachute drop…_ Leon inverts himself, finding the speed he needs as soon as he starts heading face-first toward his target.

Claire has to be okay, she needs to be, because if Leon went through the hell he has just to lose her, Cranston is going to be eating his own ass for three-square meals. As the lights start to grow brighter down below him, Leon finally realizes this drop is a lot shorter than what he’s used to, his hands already working to yank the ripcord before he becomes a nearly perfect Kennedy-pizza freshly delivered right at Reed’s feet. The sound of billowing fabric is the only warning he has to brace for the sudden deceleration that rocks his body, hands reaching up to grasp the brake handles to begin guiding himself down.

_No one is ever going to believe I just lived a scene from Point-Break…_ no the time for jokes, but humor is his default cure for the anxiety coursing through his body, _I wonder if Clive will sign off on additional Hazard Pay for this?_

**END**


	14. Brightest and Darkest

Claire quickly sits up into the best crouch she can manage in this damn dress as the floor underneath begins to shake and tremble, “What the hell did you do, Ada!?”

“Ada?” all three people gathered ignore Kevin’s question as the Asian woman slowly turns to face them.

“Completed a mission I was given, Claire. Right about now, all of the information you hoped to gain here tonight is currently dying a painful death, only to be reborn anew as one of the greatest casualties of the bioweapon race,” Claire is going to have to break it to Leon that Ada is still alive and not even trying to hide her evil intentions.

Like he senses the uneasiness in the room, Wesker offers a single look back over his shoulder, “Do not worry, Miss Redfield, this room is perfectly sealed from the virus currently turning everyone downstairs. If I wanted you dead, you’d still be down there enjoying the party.”

Kevin stirs at this, standing to both feet and growling out the question, “The President, why did you go after the President?”

“He was a necessary death to secure the world I seek to bring forth,” Wesker turns from the small porthole window in the shutter that slammed down over the clock face, “Things he has started to set in motion would make things… Harder for me. This kind of work is best done in the shadows and I can’t afford the lights he would shine on my endeavors.”

“He was just another body to you? That it!? I finally recognize you, Albert Wesker,” Claire wishes she could get him to sit down before Wesker puts him down, “traitor of the S.T.A.R.S., traitor of Umbrella… The man with no loyalties… Your legacy is built upon the tremendous body-count you’ve left behind.”

Claire watches in slow motion as Kevin pushes from his stance toward Wesker, pistol slowly being raised from the holster, and she grimaces as the D.S.O. Agent slams into the wall behind her, “GAH! How are you so fucking fast?”

“The course my life has taken me has granted me… Gifts,” blue eyes watch in horror as Wesker vanishes from his current position and reappears standing over Kevin’s prone body, “and these gifts have placed me on a level far above mere mortals.”

“So what,” the Agent doesn’t know when to shut up, which reminds her of someone, “you think you’re a God?”

“Gods are chosen by the unworthy,” Wesker’s right hand flexes and shifts into a piercing weapon, “but if the ability to choose who lives and dies makes you a God, then I will wear the title bestowed upon me by your blood.”

“Now, Wesker, I brought him up here to be my plaything. You have your own, so,” Ada leans against the wall and takes a file to her nails, “don’t kill my payment…”

Claire blinks as Kevin audibly lets out the breath he was apparently holding in, her mind trying to process just what Ada has done to win the respect of the monster before her, “Very well, Miss Wong. You would do best to remember the muzzle for your pet next time.”

He’s fast, strong, and just as cold as she remembers from Rockfort Island and Antarctica; Claire has never wanted her brother as much as she does now, _Chris, save me…_

11

Rico watches intently as two of his men sit the bound Chris and Jill in the back of the Humvee, “Go take your positions along the perimeter. We need to be ready to go as soon as we get the all-clear to enter.”

“Sir!” salutes are shared and Rico soon finds himself alone with the dreaded terrorists.

“This is,” he leans against the light pole and sighs heavily, “not how I expected to meet the two of you again.”

“We’re honestly surprised to see you at all, Pike,” Jill’s voice is tight and full of anger, “given how our last meeting went.”

“Figured Reed would’ve pinned our failure on you and banished you to some frozen wasteland,” Chris has a surprising amount of anger given that they are supposed to be acting like enemies.

It hits him, he knows why Chris is like this, so the next question is asked in a hushed voice, “She’s in there, isn’t she?”

A flash in the older man’s eyes; yeah, Claire is in there, “Why is he here, Rico?”

“He got wind that you were here, decided he needed to be a badass and capture you himself,” he turns towards the group gathered around Cranston Reed, “going to feel so good when I ruin his plans.”

“Rico,” the single word grabs his attention, “I need to get in there. As soon as it’s clear, I **_need_** to get in there. I need to save my sister.”

The former pilot looks back one more time and shakes his head, “Can’t free you yet. As soon as we get the all-clear, though, you’re in. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Anything else we need to know?” Jill looks up at him, thankful for a friendly face.

Rico nods slowly, “Friendly faces abound, took everything I had to get them here unnoticed. Also,” he looks down at Chris, “Reed gave me your job.”

A scoff, “Figures. Tries to kill me, then he trashes my name, and just for good measure, gives you my job.”

“You can have it back, the amount of paperwork you left is more terrifying that whatever the hell we’ve ever fought. How do you get away with it!?”

Jill looks over Chris’s shoulder, “I do most of his paperwork usually. He just signs it.”

“ _We have someone approaching the quarantine perimeter,_ ” Rico, Chris, and Jill all turn toward Cranston, who spins around in clear anger.

His voice isn’t exactly calm, “ _Who is it and which street are they coming from?_ ”

“ _I’m not able to identify the suspect, but they aren’t coming from the street… They’re above us in a parachute_ ,” just who the hell could be this stupid!?

“Son of a bitch,” Chris steps up from his seated position, hands still bound.

Jill chuckles, “She was right… He is still alive…”

“ _Oh you have to be fucking kidding me,_ ” Rico still doesn’t know who they are referring to, that is, until, “ _KENNEDY!?_ ”

11

_Where the fuck did this wind suddenly come from!?_ Leon barely manages to keep hold of the brakes as a gust of wind spins him around.

He was perfectly aimed to come down right down the main entrance, but now, with this spectacular change in the weather, Leon is now looking to slam right into a crashed van. Crashed vehicles, armed soldiers, but no fires, no screams, is there actually a biohazard here? His left hand pulls the brake hard, turning him toward a more favorable landing area, and he makes eye contact with a soldier, who raises his weapon toward him and speaks into his radio.

“COMING THROUGH!!!” he raises his feet, trying to go over the man, but instead, he plants his feet right into his chest and basically rides him down like a skateboard.

“Sorry, so sorry…” he unhooks the parachute as he steps off the now unconscious soldier and he pulls the shotgun up to aim at anything that moves toward him.

“KENNEDY!? What the fuck are you doing here!?” he spins toward the voice, growling loudly as Cranston Reed himself starts to walk toward him, “Just how did you get out of the Station!?”

_He’s lost it, he’s actually screaming about things he should be keeping secret_ , alas, Leon doesn’t truly care about that as he sprints toward his former boss, pulls his right hand back, and drives it hard into Reed’s face, cheering to himself as his hand is covered in warm blood.

He stumbles back, clutching his nose, “Bastard! Detain him, now!”

“ _Sir, sensors inside the Hall show the viral contaminant is dissipating, we should be able to enter in a couple of minutes_ ,” Leon turns to step toward the hall, but he finds two B.S.A.A. men pointing their weapons at him.

“Where’s Chris and Jill?” he turns toward Reed, “WHERE ARE THEY!?”

“Not inside, we captured them just before they could enter,” Reed looks around before smiling, blood-caked teeth doing nothing to dissuade the rage feeding Leon’s body, “though I don’t see Miss Redfield with them… Pity.”

Red, all he sees is red as he lunges once again at Cranston, but he never gets the chance to hit him as Chris has appeared in front of him, grabbing Reed’s face in both hands before lifting him clear off the ground, “You little shit. If my sister is a zombie inside those walls, I am going to make sure to feed you to her one piece at a fucking time, while you are still alive.”

“ _Quarantine levels minimal, opening the Hall now,_ ” Leon, Chris, Jill, and Rico all turn toward the building as the solid metal shutters quickly retreat back into the walls, finally allowing the song of the damned to play for all to hear.

“I’m going to need a pistol,” Leon hands the shotgun to Rico, who quickly orders one of his men to part with their sidearm and a few extra magazines.

“We open the center pair of doors and funnel them out. From there we can sort out the infected and uninfected, quarantine anyone not a zombie, bitten or not,” Jill barks out the order without thinking, happy to see that they still listen to her.

Cranston isn’t having it, “I give the orders he-“ but one glare from Chris quiets him.

“I’ll coordinate the quarantine and triage teams,” Rico checks to make sure the shotgun is loaded before nodding, “Go save whoever you can. Men!” he turns toward the gathering troops, “We are to assist Redfield, Valentine, and Kennedy as they clear out the Hall in search of survivors.”

“Thanks, Rico,” Chris drops a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

He smirks and nods back, “Don’t thank me yet, the guest list has over a hundred people on it… That’s a lot of infected to fight through.”

“I fought through an entire mansion of them,” Chris steps forward.

Leon is next, “I fought through an entire police station and underground lab of them.”

“I got you beat,” Jill smiles and follows the two up the several steps to the Banquet Hall, “I fought through an entire city of the dead.”

Chris grabs the right door, Leon grabs the left, and Jill steps to the side, her gun ready to shoot anything that reaches for them, “Let’s get in there and save my sister.”

“ _We’re ready, Chris, open the doors,_ ” he nods and the two men slowly pull the doors open, but grunt as they are suddenly forced open as bodies begin to slam against the doors.

“Shit!” Chris struggles to keep the door from crushing him with Leon faring a little worse.

The first thing to hit them is a strange chemical smell, possibly from what stabilized the Virus in the explosion, but soon the familiar smell of death and decay stabs at their senses. At first a zombie here and there sneaks through the opening, with the soldiers behind them dispatching them with precision shots, but soon it’s a mad rush of bodies, limbs, and snarling teeth that begins to scramble toward the assembled soldiers. Gunfire erupts from all sides as the battle begins, Rico calling out directions to focus fire.

“In, now,” Leon takes point, the handgun aimed for headshots as the trio click on their flashlights.

The entire room has a smoky effect to it, clearly from the explosive and the virus, Leon hoping that the infectious gas is truly dormant at this point. Several zombies shamble toward them, Jill snapping a shot through the brain of one while Chris dispatches another, the shot strong enough to send it back into a couple others.

“Stronger rounds?” Leon throws it out there as he kicks a zombie to the ground and fires one bullet through its brain.

Chris punches the head of another zombie off, “They’re more decayed than I’d expect after so little time… New strain of the T-Virus?”

“If it’s even the T-Virus at all,” Jill groans and fires two more shots, happy with the two more dead-again beings, “and yeah, Leon, Barry outfitted us with .45s. Sorry, if we’d have known you were going to drop in, I’d have packed a purse for you, Princess.”

Leon stops for a second, a little struck by not just Jill’s statement, but the pun she made, “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

“You shouldn’t be rubbing off on any of the women in my life, Kennedy,” Chris steps between them and heads toward the main platform of the back of the hall, “but Claire loves you, so I got to suck it up.”

He nods and follows, “We’re going to save her, she’s too smart to be caught in this.”

11

“Seems the guests of honor have arrived…” Claire watches as Wesker’s head follows something or someone.

Ada smiles and pushes off the wall, “Then shall I prepare the main event?”

A grunt from the blonde terrorist, that’s all she gets, just a positive-sounding grunt, Claire wonders just what he has on her to keep her working with him. Ada steps toward the stairs and slowly slinks down them, finally giving the redhead a moment to speak to Kevin. She slides over toward him, wanting to check on his injuries, but judging from the look on his face, the only thing injured is his pride, and possibly his liver. He coughs once and spits blood on the wood floor beneath them, grumbling something about strength and monsters.

“You okay?” she reaches a hand toward his chest, where he has one arm crossed over, but he just shifts away, “Just let me see, damn it.”

“You going to rub a secret blend of herbs and spices on it and make it better, Colonel?” the humor is dry, tasteless, just like Leon’s, Claire wonders if these two men would’ve been friends.

She groans at the joke and lifts his shirt up, surprised to find a perfectly-sculpted physique underneath, “I could let you try again and laugh as he chokes your chicken.”

There is a long silence between the two, with Claire blinking slowly, “I… Leon’s going to kill me for that one…”

“Leon,” the voice is softer than she remembers, but she recognizes the flash in his eyes, the flash of recognition, “Kennedy, right? The rookie who stumbled into Raccoon after Marvin and I called for him to stay away. You must be the woman he talks about at conferences… Who knew Redfield would actually let someone close to his sister…?”

“I think you’ll live,” she lightly smacks the area, causing him to grunt in pain, “with a little bruising.”

“Story of my life,” he starts to stand, but Claire drops a hand onto his knee, accepting her order to keep sitting.

Blue eyes scan the room, not finding much besides some pieces to repair the clock that might just weigh too much for her brother to use as weapons. Kevin points toward a set of shelving that looks a little perilous, almost like he can read her mind. Government training, it has to be the training he’s gone through. Claire’s heard stories about what he went through, rumors really, but the one that stands out the most is the three months in hell in some undisclosed location. One hundred days to take a man with cop training and turn him into a machine.

If that story is true, it explains almost everything she’s heard about him since, even the stuff she truly believes has been exaggerated, “Hey, Ryman.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you seriously go toe-to-toe with a G-creature in Harvardville?”

He laughs at her questions, “2005, yeah, it was Curtis Miller… Got his hands on samples of the T and G viruses, used T on the village of Harvardville to draw attention to the bioweapons currently being sold and traded on the Black Market, also to draw attention to the third-world villages being experimented on to create the vaccines. When his plan began to crumble, he injected himself with the G-Virus… Destroyed a lab owned by WilPharma, which we later discovered was a TriCell front.”

“Only survivor, right?” a test, just to see how true the stories actually are.

“Not by a longshot,” he holds up a hand to possibly dismiss a bad memory, “Alyssa Ashcroft was there, trying to ‘catch’ Senator Ron Davis for an interview about recent events abroad and his massive investments in WilPharma. I went in with a small team, two other people, but made it out with only Alyssa and the Senator.”

There’s something dark there, but she won’t push it, as some things are just better left to die as memories, “We’ll take them both down as soon as my brother and Leon get here.”

“I hope the rumors are true, Red,” she turns to him at the short name, not liking it coming from his mouth.

Claire turns away from him, “Same for you, slick.”

11

Jill watches as the two men she’s grown close to tear through the main hall, their minds focused on the path ahead, leaving her to come up with some kind of plan, _Like that’s going to be possible when we have absolutely zero intel…_

She brings her left leg up to knock a zombie down, Chris capitalizing quickly with a drop of his knife into the temples of the decaying man, “Holy shit, is that the President?”

Through all they’ve done and experienced, you’d think they’d seen it all, but Jill gasps as she watches the zombified form of the man they came here to talk to shamble and stumble around. The last time Jill saw Adam Benford alive, he was standing tall and proud, a far cry from the mess decaying in front of her. The woman next to him, wearing what was once a nicely-pressed pants suit sans-jacket, must be one of his Secret Service members, and with it being a woman, it can only be Helena Harper.

“Disgusting,” Leon quickly drops two shots into the pair, dropping them quickly and effortlessly.

She knows that his comment is at the general situation, that there is only so much each of them can handle before it explodes out. Chris drops down to check the corpse of the former President, rifling through the pockets, looking for _something_ they can use so this little escapade hasn’t been a complete waste. Clearly he comes up empty, because Chris stands up, clenches his fists, and does his best to not kick the body in rage.

“We clear this place out, we do not stop until we find Claire,” Jill guides the two men away from the recently deceased, “ideas of where to go next?”

“I can give you one. Long time, no see, Leon…” Jill gasps as Leon’s arm in her grip runs cold.

He turns toward the balcony overlooking the dying party, “I guess the T-Virus isn’t the only thing that brings nightmares back to life, Ada…”

Chris fires his gun, screaming in rage, “Claire better still be alive!!!”

Once the gunfire stops, the Asian woman pokes her head back over the handrail, “She is, for now…”

Leon holds a hand up to stop Chris from firing again, his face tight, dangerous, the look of it sending a chill down Jill’s spine, “Lead the way…”

**END**


	15. Hopes and Dreams

Chris noticed the immediate change in Leon’s demeanor the moment this ‘Ada’ appeared, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off the younger man ever since, “So, this is the mysterious Ada I’ve heard nothing about?”

“Nothing to tell,” Leon grunts the words through clenched teeth, “ancient history as it were.”

“That’s funny, coming from you, the one man who can’t stop rooting around the memories of a dead city,” Ada murmurs the line from the front of the group.

Chris takes this moment to become the dominant force in the group, “If you’re leading us into a trap, so help me, I’ll-“

“You know it’s a trap, Christopher,” the raven-haired Asian woman purrs over her shoulder, “yet you still follow. Stop the idle threats. Here we are,” the group stops at a set of stairs lit by a couple of sconces, “your dear sister awaits…”

He feels Jill reach for his arm, but he’s already bolting up the stairs three-at-a-time, “Chris!”

As he ascends to the top of the steps, he makes a dive toward the door, shattering the frame at the door lock as he rolls through. The rifle in his hands is pointed ahead and then swung left to right, clearing the room, but he notices the form at the far wall, shadowed by the light pouring through the glass clock face. A form is resting on the floor to his right, but that’s not important as the one in front feels like a threat.

“Step into the light with your hands up!” cop instincts take over, like they always do when he has a suspect in his sights.

The form shuffles forward, a feminine gasp filling the air before a voice from the very depths of hell calls out to him, “You haven’t changed…”

“Wesker!” Chris steps forward, rifle pointed at his enemy just a little bit harder.

The blonde monster steps forward, the darkness just enough to conceal the person behind him, “We last met at the Antarctica Compound, wasn’t it? Well,” his head tilts as Jill enters the room too, her own handgun pointed at him, “isn’t this one big family reunion.”

Ada walks past them both and takes a stance just to Wesker’s left, arms cross, smirk on her face, and too damned sure of herself as Wesker continues, “I would expect you to be happier to see us.”

“Us?” he knows it’s Claire, but Chris must admit to himself he’s worried about the state she’s in, plus the talking keeps Wesker busy long enough for one of them to come up with a plan.

He steps toward Ada, allowing the form behind him to stumble into the light, Claire’s red hair the first sign that it’s his sister, “Claire!”

“The one,” he extends a hand toward her, “and only…”

Chris takes a step toward his sister and receives a nice spin-kick from Ada for his efforts, “Nuh uh, big brother…”

Jill fires a round toward Ada, the woman dodging it easily as she spins to deliver a decent backhand to her weapon hand, but the brunette is too pissed off to let go of the weapon. Ada isn’t done yet, she quickly returns to a close proximity, grabs Jill by the thigh, spins herself up as she locks her legs around her head, and attempts to flip the other woman through the air, but Jill is not having any of it, spreading her legs to steady her stance and then jumping into the air to slam Ada to the ground.

“You got moves,” the two women spread apart as Chris fires at Wesker, the man passing through it like it was nothing to deliver an elbow into Chris’s side.

Wesker and Ada stand ready to attack as Chris, Jill, and now Leon step forward with guns ready, the smirk on Wesker’s lips never falling as he declares, “Now let’s finish this once and for all. I think the odds are fair, two on three, right Ada?”

She quickly produces a handgun, fires it at Leon, and runs up to throw a punch at Jill. Chris brings an arm up to stop her, but she just grabs it and flips under it, using the momentum to drive both feet into Jill’s face. The brunette falls back as Chris uses all his strength to throw Ada across the room. Wesker appears in front of him, the glasses flaring red before he grabs Chris by his face and just tosses him to the ground. Wesker pulls up his leg, prepared to drop it down through his nemesis’s chest, but Jill finally makes contact with a bullet, red, human blood spattering down to the floor.

“Lucky shot,” he jumps back once, twice, three times, once again shadowed by the light pouring from the clock face, “I pray you don’t have another one, for your sake…”

The clock chimes the hour, ten chimes to signal two more hours to midnight, “Seven minutes. Seven minutes is all I can spare to play with you.”

“I’ll make it fucking count,” Chris drops the rifle and slides out the handgun, the S.T.A.R.S. emblem drilled into the grip flashing in the light.

There is a muffled pop before searing pain fills his shoulder and chest, the son of a bitch just dislocated his firing arm in one shot. He doesn’t let it stop him though, as Chris grits his teeth, pulls the gun into his left hand, and fires a shot right into Wesker’s side, drawing more blood. He receives a knee to his stomach for the trouble, the pain almost causing him to double over. Wesker is so much stronger than Chris remembers from Antarctica, but he’ll persevere, he has to.

As his enemy jumps back from the wound he just received, Chris turns around to one of the pillars in the room, grits his teeth, and slams his shoulder into it, setting the joint back into place, “FUCK!”

Wesker squats down a bit, falling into a runner’s stance, _Oh god damn it, no_ , and takes off like a rocket. The hit never comes though as rifle-fire erupts behind Chris, pelting the former S.T.A.R.S. Captain in the chest a few times, just enough to stop him mid-sprint. Chris nods as his sister steps up to him, Claire holding his rifle like she was made for it. The Redfield siblings nod at each other and take two steps away from each other, trying to buy space so the monster before them can’t get them both. Chris fires a shot from Barry’s Samurai Edge, which Wesker dodges right into a pot-shot from Claire, a roar erupting from the black-clad blonde.

“This nightmare is going to end, one way or another!” Chris fires another shot, this one finding purchase but at the cost of Wesker closing the gap, the snarl on his face as unsettling as the specks of blood dripping down his face.

11

Leon drops under the kick from Ada, bringing an arm up to lock around the appendage and attempt to throw her. As she’s picked off the ground, she forces her other leg around his head, trying to pull him into a choke-hold of some kind. A knife-swing from Jill dislodges their target, with Leon only offering a small thumbs-up as thanks before turning his attention back to the woman he watched fall in Raccoon City.

He knew it was her who dropped the rocket launcher down to him as he fought the Tyrant, of course it was, who else in that city cared enough about him and currently wasn’t busy running for their own life? “Ada, stop this. You don’t have to work for him!”

“Stop it,” she backhands him, the pain worse than her words, “stop trying to save me. I don’t need it. I’ve been a lost cause since you dropped me.”

Fair enough, all these years, she’s probably not savable, “Have it your way, Ada. No more playing games.”

She throws another kick his way, he easily blocks it with his left arm, allowing him to grab at her shirt with his right hand. It snags, the cloth light and delicate in his hand, but clearly strong enough to not tear as he manages to actually throw the lighter woman this time. Ada flips through the air, lands on her feet, but Jill tackles her hard into the wall, both women grunting in pain with only one of them still standing. Jill capitalizes on her standing position by kicking Ada in the side, sending her careening back into the wall once again.

Gunfire erupts behind Leon, which he knows would be Chris and Claire taking on Wesker, “Rookie?”

“Who?” he turns back to see another man slowly standing up, hair longer than he’d expect, face disheveled and barely shaved, but a face he remembers from files floating around the B.S.A.A. like ghost stories, “Kevin!?”

Sure enough, it’s the D.S.O.’s golden boy, Kevin Ryman, “Yeah, long time no see. Need a hand?”

“I think I can handle this one, you might want to go help them. Wesker isn’t someone to take lightly,” he offers his handgun, but Kevin pulls out his own and charges into the fray.

11

The walls come up, tuning everything out but the fight, Kevin gripping the pistol tight in his hands as he steps between the Redfield siblings and fires a shot into Wesker’s legs, watching the bullet dig in but nothing more. Change of tactics, the blonde man pulls back to throw a punch, but Kevin takes a step back and delivers a kick straight to his head. Nothing but pain as his foot connects with what has to be a steel beam inside that face.

“What the fuck are you?” he’s pulled out of range of the next punch by Chris, who isn’t showing any sign of stopping now.

“We take turns,” his weapon is raised and fired, “keep him off balance. We’ll win the day.”

Kevin nods and follows suit, dropping a round into the shifting form, growling as the bullet passes through harmlessly. Claire steps up and takes her shot, Kevin’s eyes watching for a sign of what to do next. There, the left foot, the left foot doesn’t move. Chris throws a punch, Wesker backing away, ruining the plan forming for now. Kevin fires two shots, one high and one low, both getting dodged, but this allows Claire to nail him in the back with a small burst of gunfire.

“This is getting tiresome!” ah, he is capable of being annoyed, Kevin can work with this as annoying is his specialty.

He raises his pistol, training on the legs, waiting for his shot, and it comes as Chris throws a punch and follows up with a shot right into his chest. The trigger is squeezed, the bullet exploding from the barrel, and digging hard into Wesker’s stationary left foot. His target growls again, finding their little annoyances bothersome, which only drives the D.S.O. Agent to work harder.

_Annoyed targets can’t think straight, but this isn’t your normal target_ , he’s going to have to work harder; time to turn on the Ryman-charm.

“With all this power,” he dodges the double-swing from Wesker, “do you think yourself a God?”

“That right is mine!” the rage is palpable, prime target for what comes next as Claire fires another burst, these bullets missing easily.

Chris appears behind Wesker and wraps his arms around him in a Full-Nelson, “GET HIM!”

Kevin backflips, driving his feet into Wesker’s face before sticking the landing and planting his gun between Wesker’s eyes, “Your God-hood is nothing to a non-believer.”

11

Jill trades blows with Ada, the bitter taste of iron in her mouth just fueling her need to fight. There’s been rumors about someone working behind the scenes at some of the worst biohazard incidents since Raccoon. Wesker was the name they all attached, but to see him have someone under his thrall so completely, it’s just shocking to her. The thinner woman flips back from a knife-swing from Leon, hands reaching for a gun Jill didn’t notice before.

“NO!” she charges toward Leon, arms reaching out to take him with her.

The thud of the bullet is loud in her ears, even as it’s drowned out by the sound of her own pumping blood. She rolls over Leon, hands clutching the wound in her stomach, but not feeling any wetness or warmth, she realizes the thin vest took the brunt of the impact. Leon quickly helps her to her feet, both sharing a quick glance before Leon charges straight for the woman they are taking on. His punch actually connects this time, sending her sliding back, blood dripping from her nose, the facial feature obviously broken.

“Thought nice guys didn’t hit women?” she blows air through her nose to clear out the blood, swiping the remnants away with the back of her hand.

The blonde agent cracks his knuckles and rolls his neck, “You stopped being a woman the second I dropped you into the abyss. You’re just another demon to me.”

Jill recognizes that look on Ada’s face, it’s the face of a woman scorned, _So there was something there… Huh. Claire’s not going to like that._

She raises her gun, fires a round off, and cheers to herself as blood scatters to the ground, Ada clutching the wound in her arm, “Our time is up, Albert!”

“Fine,” her eyes dart toward the taller man, who delivers a ground-shaking punch into Chris’s chest, “Enough games!”

_Holy shit… He’s just been playing with us…_

11

Chris screams in pain as he rolls around on the floor, his scrambled brain trying to count the number of broken ribs, _Fuck, it’s a lot more than I expected… This isn’t good._

The roll ends with his back slamming into the pillar he set his shoulder with earlier, blood instantly filling his mouth, “Son of a bitch…”

Each word spills blood down his chin and onto his shirt and Chris swears he can see a fist-shaped indent in his own chest. Footsteps, solid footsteps are all that clue him in to his impending doom. His mind focuses on Claire, Jill, Sherry, and even Leon, then he starts to see a memory long-forgotten. Blood-filled eyes glance up at the form approaching, but it’s not Wesker, it’s his father.

It’s been decades, but he remembers every detail of his father like he saw him yesterday, “ _This isn’t the end, Chris. You fell down, that’s true, but you know what the best part of falling down is?_ ”

“Getting back up and showing the day who’s boss…” great, the pain and creeping death is making him answer his hallucinations.

Wesker drops down through the visage of his father, forcing it to dissipate like smoke, “That’s a curious final statement… Shall I carve it on your unmarked grave?”

He can’t answer as two bodies slam into the blonde monstrosity, taking him from view, “Chris, oh my God… No…”

It’s bad, it has to be, judging from the tone of her voice, _Sorry… I’m not strong… Enough…_

**END**


End file.
